


The Mating Sickness

by AnnettePoudre



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bloodplay, Dracula is here too, F/M, Fluff, Inspired by Castlevania, Strong Male Friendships that make me cry, True Mates, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:41:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 68,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24421477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnettePoudre/pseuds/AnnettePoudre
Summary: The men of the Malfoy family have hidden a secret for generations that has earned them power and prestige in exchange for a curse. As Lucius' life falls apart, a certain mudblood keeps falling in. He becomes acutely aware that the "family curse" has come for him at last, but Abraxas, his late father never told him what the curse entailed. As he hits his lowest point, Lucius begins to meet with the lowest of people, and decides death is better with company.  A gift for the Lumione Spring Fest, now complete~
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Lucius Malfoy
Comments: 57
Kudos: 218
Collections: Budding Desires Spring Fest





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [Budding_Desires](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Budding_Desires) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> Lucius Malfoy has always hidden his own family magic from the world. Letting it out only to charm in a political deal, but what they do not know is, when he is in full force of that power he needs to mate. Who happens to be in the room with him but a much improved Hermione Granger. 
> 
> What no one really knows is that he is descendant of Dracula, and has inherited his powers of persuasion. 
> 
> Romancing Hermione Granger is going to be a difficult thing to do but if he converted back to his true self... She'd be his by the snap of the fingers...
> 
> Okay I promise to fulfill the following parts of this prompt  
> 1\. Lucius is an Elegant, Vampire  
> 2\. He has to mate with Hermione, but not use his powers  
> 3\. His mate is directly tied to his powers.  
> 4\. Dracula will be involved
> 
> There is some crossover with Castlevania, after all, that blonde hair has to come from somewhere~ I choose not to use warnings, it's a tame fic, but there's a lot of blood.

He was not at his best, he decided, stalking up to Hogwarts, a lack of sleep, a lack of funds, a lack of self worth. The war was coming at him quickly, and he was on another mission, another death wish, and yet it  _ continued _ . His lord, and since when did Lucius Malfoy have a  _ lord _ , sent him to retrieve something that he himself could not explain. 

“Severus will know,” the Dark Lord had said flippantly, scanning through another old tome, his eyes didn’t even meet Lucius “Do not fail me on this, I can do much worse to you than I already have.”

And of course he could, because he was the bloody Dark Lord, and Lucius was just Lucius bloody Malfoy. He stormed up the stone stairs of the castle, leaning on his cane because he was weak lately, for some reason or another, probably due to the despot that was living in his home. A fall wind kicked up as the doors creaked open in acquiescence to the chairman of the board. His bones hurt, and Severus was going to be no easy person to convince.

He couldn’t convince people like he used to, not recently. Recently everything had gone pear shaped as far as his health was concerned. Narcissa said it was the war, but he didn’t want to admit the Dark Lord had reached this far. His bank accounts, his fortune, his family, but not  _ him _ . 

“Enough,” Severus’ voice floated down the stairwell from the Headmaster’s office, his office now, Lucius supposed. “Your repeated flouting of the rules may have worked well under the last Headmaster, but not  _ this _ Headmaster.”

“Sir,” A woman’s voice, and then a cry.

“And if you think I want her blood on my carpets, you’d think twice Alecto.” Severus’ eyes moved from the woman in the room to Lucius who was leaning against the stone entryway surveying the scene before him.

Another shriek and Lucius  _ felt _ it. Maybe a headache was coming on. He pressed his finger to the bridge of his nose, trying to stem it off. “Severus, is it possible to meet with you alone?”

“Miss Granger, I am done here, Alecto, Amycus, your presence is no longer needed.” Severus waved them all off and the girl that was partially obscured by the Carrows fell to the floor in a heap.

“Anything for you  _ Headmaster Snape _ .” Amycus sneered, bumping into Lucius as he left. Alecto, on the other hand, trailed her finger up his arm as she passed him and Lucius felt a wave of nausea coming on.

“Clean yourself up, Miss Granger. Head Girls have standards to keep, and I have appointments.”

Lucius stepped into the room, summoning whatever airs he had left and he looked down at the girl who was on all fours in front of him, riotous curls obscuring her from him. She looked up to him and he saw a mirror of himself. Hollow, tired, and  _ angry _ . She was ashen, with dark circles and a cut across her face, starting at her mouth and moving off the side towards her cheek. Her eyes widened and she quickly stood, dismissing herself.

Lucius watched her exit, the stone stairwell scraping as it let out it’s last occupant, leaving only him and Severus. “I don’t have it.” Severus said tiredly, sitting down with a sigh, avoiding Lucius gaze. “It’s not here, ask him to stop bothering me for it.”

“I don’t even know what  _ it _ is.” Lucius said, mimicking the Headmaster. “I am just a house elf.” 

“Slavery, the great equalizer of dark wizards everywhere.” Severus leaned forward on his desk, papers scattered, covering it completely. “You look like shit.”

“Yeah,” Lucius closed his eyes, his chest felt tight. “I’ve caught some illness.”

“Overexposure to an egomaniac?” Severus chuckled and tossed a file folder at him “This is what you are looking for, and I can’t find it either, not for all of the Carrows’ badgering.”

“The Sword of Gryffindor?” Lucius exhaled to try and relax. 

“They think the Head Girl, Miss Granger, has it.”

“And? Does she?”  
  
“I am sure you can convince her.” Severus said “You know, your _powers of persuasion_.”

Lucius bit his tongue, not sure if it was a jab at his supposed status as a womanizer or at his usual underhanded tactics. “I cannot fail at this.”  
  
Severus let out a puff of laughter, and Lucius bristled. “You’re being set up to fail, Lucius.” 

“I don’t fail.”  
  


* * *

  
The silence of the library ensconced him in some kind of tranquility he had not felt in awhile. Severus said she would be here, and who could miss that hair, but as he walked through the stacks, deeper and deeper, he couldn’t find her, and that ache that he felt at the doors worsened, fear made his joints hurt. How had he fallen this far? How had he become something less than human?

A cough and he turned his head sharply, in the small crack between the shelves he saw her in the next aisle over, reading by wandlight, because it was dark in this area of the library, poring over a book, her face partially obscured. She had dried blood on her cheek, a wound from before, her eyes reflected the text and Lucius watched her for a moment. Failure in this task would make it his last.

It was his old magic that silenced his footsteps, it was his old magic that made her look at him, and it was his old magic that made it hard for him to breathe, and perhaps it was his old magic that made him turn and walk away from her.

“ _ Wait _ .” She commanded as he reached the end of the aisle, and it was the old magic that made him stop.

“My mistake.”

“Did you just imperius me?” She asked, dangerously.

He bristled. He  _ never _ imperiused people. He turned back, his hair falling over his shoulder as he looked at the girl holding a book, the filigree caught her wandlight “ _ Magical Maladies _ ”

Her eyes met his and he tried to do it again, a magic so old it didn’t require words, only intent, and it  _ hurt _ . “Miss Granger.”

Her eyes didn’t go glassy, a smile didn’t form on her lips, she didn’t move towards him. She just glared at him. Was he too weak for this magic to work anymore? Had he fallen so far?

He pressed his tongue against his closed teeth in frustration, and she sighed at the silence and turned back to her book. “I am not here to be stared at, if you want to kill me, get it over with.”

“No,” Lucius said, now at a loss. He might as well be a squib now, for all he knew. “No, I am not here for that.”

“Then what?” She flipped another page and exhaled, her chest rose and fell, there was a wheeze that caught in her throat and that tightness from before came after him. His breathing matched hers, an old habit. Wasn’t it?

Maybe it  _ had _ worked. After all, the girl was talking to him for some reason. Merlin knows they had no reason to even be on conversational terms.

“The Sword of Gryffindor,” Lucius composed his voice, it came out smooth, that kind of silk that made women fall at his feet.

Her eyes flicked up to him briefly from the text. “What about it?”

Yes, it definitely had worked. She was just different than other women, maybe that’s why she was breathing so hard. She coughed onto the book and he smiled at the coy tactic. Yes! He still had it, even after all these years. The old magic never left him, even if he had abandoned it for decades.

“Where is it?”

This time she looked up at him, and her eyes danced with mirth, a smile on her face. She was as good as his, under his spell. 

The head girl snapped the book shut and  _ laughed _ . “You’re really Lucius Malfoy then?”

“Of course, my dear.” He turned and offered his hand to her. “Tell me where the sword is hidden, and I promise to reward you.”

“Get lost, Malfoy. You and your son are one and the same, chasing after mudblood skirts in the stacks, while you tout blood purity to anyone who will listen.” She huffed and turned around, maybe a bit too quickly, because she whirled herself right into the bookcase and fell into a heap on the floor, clutching the side of her head and hissing in pain.

Like a marionette he moved towards her, his body not entirely his own as he hunched over the girl. 

“Don’t touch me.” She curled around the book, a new cut had opened up on her head “Get lost Malfoy, you won’t get anything from me.”

He took a look at her now, and noticed she was sweating. “You’re sick.” He commented as he touched her skin, it was burning.

“If you kill me the aurory will be here in a heartbeat.” She snapped, flinching away from his touch.

Lucius remembered himself, getting away from her, if she was sick with some muggle disease he wouldn’t survive it. He was so weak lately, he had these fevers too. A part of him felt he should stay and help, perhaps the part that saw himself in her. Trapped.

He fled the library, fear gripping him so tightly that he was sure that he would forget to breathe, and when he stumbled down the steps of Hogwarts, the icy wind of late fall kicking up his robes and cutting through to the bone. He was sympathizing with mudbloods, his body ached, and there was that latent frustration that came from the fact that he would die soon. If the Dark Lord did not kill him, whatever illness he had would come for him first.  
  


* * *

  
Rodolphus LeStrange was what Lucius would consider a friend. Rich enough to not care about the Malfoy fortunes, fucked enough to commiserate with the Malfoy misfortunes, and he had good taste in liquor. Something Severus, unfortunately, could never have. The two sat at his dinner table in the LeStrange Manor, cramped to one side of the massive oak slab, rolling crystal cut tumblers empty of firewhiskey between hands. Lucius ate and  _ ate _ but he never felt full, another symptom of this damn illness.

“This old magic,” Rodolphus mused “What is it? Blood magic?”

“In a sense.” The blonde replied, his hair tied back now, wisps of blonde hair framing his five o’clock shadow that was always threatening to grow into a beard. “It’s family magic.”

“If it’s blood magic, maybe it didn’t work because she’s a mudblood.” Rodolphus sipped the watered down whiskey that was left around the large ice. “You look like shit lately.”

“Thanks.” Lucius rolled his eyes “It started in September. Severus says-”

“Oh fuck what he says.” Rodolphus waved his hand with the glass “He’d say anything to see you in an early grave and Narcissa back in his bed.”

Lucius picked at his empty plate, full but still hungry, he decided the hunger was just the gnawing fear of returning to the manor empty handed and ignored it. There was nothing to be done about fear.

“Bellatrix?” Lucius asked idly, filling the silence, prolonging this reprieve a little longer.

“Narcissa?” Rodolphus shot back.

Lucius looked down at his empty whiskey tumbler and decided that perhaps silence was more preferable than talking about arranged marriages.

“Go home.” Rodolphus said finally with a sigh “It’s three in the morning, he won’t be up to harass you, and tomorrow is another day.”

“Rodolphus,” Lucius started, unsure of how to proceed. Unsure of what he even wanted to say.

“I understand, brother.” Rodolphus said before pouring another finger of whiskey in his glass “I can’t sleep anymore either.”

It wasn’t that he didn’t sleep anymore, he slept a lot. He sat in his vast library and stared into a book trying to remember everything about Hermione Granger that he had ever known. His thoughts wandered in and out of lucidity, sometimes going down long paths of fantasy, where she let him tangle his fingers into her hair, and sometimes into long paths of horror, where her blood soaked into the carpets of his home.

When he woke, his body thrummed with that same hunger and he wandered through the empty halls at half past five, the portraits greeting him in that pre-dawn light that made him feel as if all his secrets laid bare. He walked into the house elf quarters and ignored the cheers of good morning from the servants and opened a flimsy wooden door into the elf baths.

He sat in an old chair and stared into a mirror, checking himself critically, the five o’clock shadow grew out into the beginnings of a beard, his eyes sunken, his skin oily. He sighed and looked down at the tattered grey cloth sitting on the vanity, unrolling it to reveal three silver instruments, polished to perfection by the elves. Two metal files of different coarseness and a curved hook.

Lucius leaned towards the mirror and picked up a metal file. His father told him a story when he was small. That all the wealth that the Malfoy’s benefitted from came from a bargain. Lucius smiled revealing two long incisors and took the file and began to attack his fangs that grew back every night. The Malfoy family took upon the curse of the vampire for power, and each morning, Lucius filed away the family secret as his father had taught him, as all Malfoy men are taught.

Power came at a price, Abraxas told him. Lucius licked his teeth, feeling the jagged edges he had become accustomed to. It was a shame that the Malfoy power had seemed to have run out, and yet he still lived with the curse.

His teeth ached, he sighed, wrapping his tools back up in the grey cloth. His body ached, he put the heels of his hands in his eyes and rested his elbows on the table. His head hurt, and for some ungodly reason, he was  _ hungry _ .


	2. Chapter 2

Narcissa was tapping her fork impatiently on the china to alert her husband that she was both there, and impatient. “What will you do about Draco?”

“What does he need now?” Lucius asked, he stabbed at the steak again, realizing it was not what he quite wanted for breakfast, but of course lately nothing was what he wanted. He ate to keep up appearances, and it was driving the house elves mad with worry as most meals came back half eaten.

“You are going to keep him at school? With the Carrows? Are we doomed to repeat the same mistakes of the last generation of Malfoy men?”

Narcissa had a lot of opinions about the mad man currently occupying their home, and Narcissa’s opinions of course were heard, whether one wanted to listen or not. “Abraxas damned this family, but I’ll be damned if my son is involved.”

He wanted to correct her, but he did not. This family was damned long before Abraxas came into the picture. Lucius poked idly at the steak. “I will fetch him and then?”

“France, Beauxbatons.” Narcissa said with finality.

“I will fetch him and transfer him to France.” Lucius replied, his head hurt, and maybe he could slip out from breakfast to get back to Hogwarts before any of the guests in his house realized that the Lord of the Manor had returned.

“Bellatrix said-”

“Well if Bellatrix said it, it must be true.” Lucius mocked his wife and then regretted it.

“Are you mad?” Narcissa said and there was a clink of silverware against china “She was right about you too, you know. You will be dead before the year’s out and you’re going to take Draco and myself with you.”

“Master Lucius,” An elf interrupted “A Master Severus here to see you in the gardens sir.”

“It’s six thirty in the morning,  _ really _ Lucius.” Narcissa said but he waved her off and picked up his cane.

Winter’s dawn barely flooded over the dead hedges that used to be green with summer, he could see his breath as he weaved down the dirt path to meet his friend. Severus was a different type of friend, not a “we’re fucked” friend, a “no, actually, only you’re fucked” friend. Severus had a penchant for getting out of trouble and leaving Lucius in it. To be fair, Lucius was this friend to many others, and perhaps that’s why he liked keeping Severus around.

Severus was overlooking his fountain, also drained for the winter, his lips pressed into a hard line. “I asked you to speak with her, not curse her.”

Lucius’ ran his tongue over his neatly filed teeth. “Who?”

“Miss Granger, she was found unconscious in the library after  _ you _ had been seen with her, and now I have to explain to  _ aurors _ why there was an attack on a student in my school not two months  _ into  _ the school year.”

A chill settled into him and Lucius stared at his hands, he could see the veins crisscrossing across the top. He didn’t care what happened to some mudblood. “I did nothing to her, the girl is lying.”

“The girl is  _ dying _ . Lift your curse so I can cover this up. Minerva and her merry band of Ministry Aurors are having a field day.” Severus paced around the garden before coming back to his side.

“She was breathing when I left.”

“She is breathing now. If you won’t lift the curse then-”

The next words he regretted as soon as he spoke them. “I will see to her, but I did  _ not _ curse her.”

And why did he want to see Miss Granger? Lucius turned this over for a bit in his mind, trying to justify this. The sword, he settled on the sword, and maybe it would be easier to get the sword if there was a life debt, and maybe she wouldn’t laugh at him this time, and maybe if she was saved he could be saved too.

The maybes carried him up the stairs to the infirmary of Hogwarts, before students rose for classes, before the matron had begun her rounds, and before the aurory took down Severus’ precarious position around his ears. Rooms created out of white sheets that hung around beds, and on this morning, all beds were full. Morning light cast long shadows across the white tile, and he could make out resting children in their beds. Severus eyed a door on the far end of the room before suddenly stopping him.

“Be quick.” He gestured to the bed to his left “I will stand guard.”

Lucius carefully pulled aside the curtain to see to his patient, who looked as poorly as he felt, and as the curtain closed behind him, that same quiet buzzed in his ears, and there was an ease that he had felt in the library the day before. He exhaled the stress that was making his chest tight, and ran his fingers up the sheet. He was so close to the sword, to completing his task and getting out of dodge again.

His fingers brushed against hers, accidentally, and then maybe purposefully he turned her hand over in his, studying the veins in her hand, stark and blue against her pale skin. She made a small noise and he dropped her hand. His gentleness disgusted him even now. He had a mission to do. There was no sentimentality in war.

“Miss Granger?” He asked and she moved her head to face him, her eyes unopened, sweat poured down her face like tears.

She opened her eyes and looked at him, unfocused. “You.”

“The sword?” For some reason his fingers strayed towards her hand again, tracing her veins, feeling her life underneath his touch.

“You cursed me, like Ginny.” She coughed and turned her face away from him, he heard her moan again. She cleared her throat “It’s been months.”

It  _ had _ been months. Long days of fever, of tiredness, of aches that never had explanation, of hunger that never abated, of misery that no drink could banish. Lucius’ index finger rested on her pulse point, listening to her labored breathing, and feeling uneasy.

“I will make you a deal,” he murmured quietly “will you take it?”

“I’d rather die.”

“You will.” He promised her.

They both would. This thought made him tense up again, she weakly pulled away from him. “Miss Granger, if you give me the sword, I can lift… this curse.” A lie.

“Get lost Malfoy.” She moaned in despair another cough, this one made her curl away from him and the loss of contact left him cold. 

He reached for her, his fingertips brushing against her wrist again. “Miss Granger.”

“Go.” She covered her face with her hands and another shaky sigh that made him reach for her, his hand a centimeter from her back. “Goodbye Malfoy.”

He withdrew his hand and turned away from her, exiting the makeshift sheet room and staring at the headmaster. What on earth was wrong with him? Her suffering had  _ nothing _ to do with him. “It is no curse, your matron probably already knows. It is some illness.” Lucius cleared his throat “I have come for Draco.”

“France?” Severus asked, as if it was any of his business.

“At his mother’s request.”

“If she dies,  _ you _ will take the fall. I have witnesses Lucius.” Severus warned as Lucius left the infirmary.

Lucius did not fear death, it often was sitting in his drawing room or making a mess of his library. However, the thought of the girl's death made his nerve endings hurt. He needed to get away. He was going insane over some menial task for the Dark Lord. Hermione Granger had  _ nothing _ to do with him, and this damned castle was so  _ hot _ .  
  


* * *

  
Draco stood in the halls of the dungeons with him, kicking a stone with a shoe and Lucius looked down at the boy as the blonde hair caught the torchlight. Draco was Narcissa’s greatest pride and Narcissa’s greatest lie. One that Lucius gladly kept for her. His wife was full of secrets, as all Black women tended to be, but while Black women believed themselves to be masters of secrecy, they often fell short. As Rodolphus could confirm. 

Draco was not his son, and when he was born without the Malfoy curse, Lucius only felt relieved. He had not told Narcissa about the curse, and when the boy came squalling out of the delivery room in Saint Mungo's with no  _ abnormalities _ . He elected to keep it that way. There would be no rare steaks, no blood puddings, no teachings of the curse, and the secret they must hide. The Malfoy line would die with Lucius, and the family curse with it.

“France?”

“Your mother wishes it.” Lucius said in a tone that brooked no argument.

“Well if mother wishes it,” Draco said sarcastically, and turned his face away from his father and towards the torchlight. “Does this have anything to do with…” he let the word stay unsaid. Voldemort.

“I believe so.”

“I want to stay with you, father.”

The word twisted into him like a knife. It was why he kept his distance from Draco. Draco, and Narcissa, were both burdens placed upon him by his father. Everything often led back to Abraxas. “You may speak with your mother on this, you know I am powerless when it comes to her wishes.”

Draco was silent for awhile, turning over this information, plotting how to proceed and Lucius thought about Hermione Granger for the meantime. The way she curled up to protect herself both times they had met, those shuddering sighs that made his lungs hurt in response. The fever that matched his own. The fear matched his own. Lucius had never felt sympathy for others, but perhaps the stress was getting to him.

“When?” Finally Draco spoke and Lucius was pulled from his thoughts.

He cursed at himself. No more about the girl! 

“A week, at the latest, today at the earliest, I must speak to your Godfather, I also have some business to attend to.”

“Friday?”

It was Tuesday.

“Friday seems acceptable, be well, Draco.” Lucius cleared his throat to cover up another cough that threatened to bubble up. It was no good to show weakness in front of the boy. Lucius was well aware that everything else about his appearance screamed illness.

“And you, father.”

Lucius left him there, stalking off from the dungeons in an effort to get away from him, to regain some equilibrium, but when he went to the library, to get that small bit of peace he sought out yesterday, he found none.

He began to pull some books out about Hogwarts artifacts, in hope that there would be word on the sword. However each page about Gryffindor made him wonder about Miss Granger, and his headache worsened as he realized each moment he spent poring over some useless book was taking him closer to failure for the Dark Lord.

Severus found him rubbing his temples while he studied Hogwarts a History: Unabridged. “Still here?”

“You’re not busy with the aurory?” Lucius asked and flipped another page that detailed the life of Godric Gryffindor. 

“You were correct in ascertaining she is  _ ill _ , and Miss Granger absolved you of any wrongdoings. She will be transferred to St. Mungo’s before dinner. I had thought-”

Lucius waved him off. “I do not curse children.”

“There are many times when I myself have wished to curse Miss Granger.” Severus replied “However, she has shown sense this year, and is one of the only Gryffindors to return.”

“Are you worried for the girl?” Lucius asked, digging a bit to see if she was truly okay.

“According to her friends, she has been sick all semester, probably a nervous breakdown or some other overachiever disease.” Severus said derisively. “You are welcome to have dinner here. For some reason, I think you are avoiding the manor.”

“I wonder what it could be?” Lucius snorted “The same reason you jumped at the chance to be headmaster?”

“Oh, there is nothing more glamorous than being in charge of an army of teenage hormones.” Severus said as they left the library and he saw the Headmaster’s eyes slide towards his cane.

Lucius hoped it wasn’t obvious that his cane was no longer just for show, and straightened his spine “A trip to St Mungo’s wouldn’t be out of place for you either, my friend.”

Lucius huffed “You’re the headmaster, please write me a note for the Dark Lord, I am sure he’ll accept a delay on my task.”

“A check up would not be remiss.” Severus waved for the gargoyle to step aside “You look like shit.”

Lucius repressed the urge to snap at him. Severus was exhausting. When they stepped into his office he saw that they were not alone, but Minerva McGonagall was speaking quietly with one of Narcissa’s cousins? Nieces? The Black line ran true in any case.

“Mister Malfoy, I hear you have been cleared of wrongdoings in  _ this _ case.” Minerva sniffed “The aurory has finished their investigation.”

“I have been told.” Lucius said before collapsing gracelessly into one of the chairs. His joints hurt from the walk.

“Right, since this is no legal matter, we’ll be off then.” The Black woman said and her hair changed from a professional brown into a bright pink.

“Take care of yourself, Nymphadora.” Minerva said, sparing a glare for Lucius who instead pretended to be fixated on the silver snakehead off his cane. “Another social hour, Headmaster?”

“I believe Chairman Malfoy has some school business that he is attending to this evening.” Severus said and sat behind his desk, rifling through some papers.

“I am  _ deputy _ headmistress still, Severus.” Minerva snapped “I am supposed to know what happens in my school.”

“And yet you did not notice that the head girl has some possibly contagious illness for months now?”

Minerva cursed under her breath “You may have gotten this position through Albus’ will, but you do  _ not _ deserve it, and I will not be treated this way. Myself, the students, nor the staff.”

“Please alert me when Saint Mungo’s comes to pick up your precious student.” Severus said and looked over at Lucius “That will be all Minerva.”

They sat in silence, waiting for the stone against stone grating that signaled they were alone. “You will go with her.”  
  
“I will go with her?” Lucius said shocked.

“Go get a check up, Lucius, you are no use to anyone dead.” Severus flipped through some more papers “I am doing this as a favor to Narcissa. I will make your excuses to the Dark Lord, saying something or other happened, and I have a portkey for Draco prepared.”

“I don’t need you mothering me Severus.” He snapped, gripping his cane tightly to abate the anger.

“I don’t need any more deaths on my hands or in my office.” Severus replied casually, but the concern was still there. “I vowed to protect Draco, you know Narcissa made me-”

“I know about the vow.” Lucius seethed, another knife in his pride. Narcissa did not tell him the conditions of the vow, only that Severus was asked to step in when Lucius could not.

As was often the case, because Narcissa still loved Severus. Lucius was sure that this moment was his lowest point. Cuckolded by a man with no fortune, no looks, no class, stuck in servitude to a man with much the same, waiting for death because he couldn’t find some rusty old sword.

A few moments of silence went by before a silvery hound bounded into the office “Saint Mungo's has arrived.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be honest, I meant to edit this a lot, because I know that this is more focused on the conversations than the descriptions, and I am worried it will detract from the story. :( maybe I will edit it to be better later?


	3. Chapter 3

Hermione Granger was curled up in a ball, shivering under a blanket, despite this, she was clearly still feverish and Lucius watched her examination by the white robed nurses. The girl’s hair was spelled back into a braid and her eyes were squeezed shut as nurses gently moved around her casting diagnostic spells.

“Has she had any contact with any creatures? Werewolves, vampires-” Lucius’ mouth went dry “-spiders, veela?” 

“Miss Thorton?” Severus sneered “Do you think I make it my  _ business _ to follow my students around?”

The nurse looked chastised, and Lucius decided she was a former student. “It’s just- never mind Headmaster.”

“Lucius Malfoy will accompany her, he is a trusted friend, and he will also need to see a healer.”

“The same illness?” Miss Thorton asked, she was a petite blonde witch that was an entire head shorter than Severus, a quick quotes quill working off a piece of paper.

“No, it’s just exhaustion.” Lucius lied.

“Well, the Malfoy’s have always been benefactors to the hospital, it’s best you get checked out.” Miss Thorton said looking him over.”Grab onto the bed, Mister Malfoy, it’s easier for us to transport this way.”  
  
The other two nurses grabbed onto the metal frame of the hospital bed and with a crack, they apparated to Saint Mungo's. And he didn’t let go of the bed, because there was something about Hermione Granger that made him want to stay near. Perhaps pity, or sympathy, or duty since he was sent with her from Hogwarts, because he sat quietly in a chair next to her, staring out the window over the London streets, contemplating this ease that came in being in the Janus Thickey ward. The magicked silence and sterile isolation lended itself to a sense of calm. He decided he would wait for the first doctor to come, and then as the first doctor left, he decided he would wait until she woke up.

“You’re here.” A voice croaked “Again.”

Lucius looked away from the window, moonlight shone into the room, illuminated only by a candle and her diagnostic auras. “In lieu of a magical guardian.” Another lie.

Hermione licked her lips and closed her eyes. “You’re sick too.”

“I am not.”

“Is your bed here?”

“This is a private room.” He corrected, why on  _ earth _ would she think that Lucius Malfoy’s ward would be caught dead in a shared room like some cattle.

He squeezed his eyes shut at the thought, she was  _ nothing _ to him. Not a ward, not a human being, a mudblood. He didn’t move from the chair and she coughed, making him look at her again, her face was sallow and sweaty from fever.

“You look sick.” She finally said, trying to pull the blanket higher but it was stuck, the ends tucked tightly into the corners.

“So I have been told.” Lucius sighed and turned his attention away from her, deciding he would leave after the night nurse had come to check on her. Severus left her to him. He should be responsible for  _ something  _ in his life lately . “Rest, Miss Granger. I will stay for the night nurse.”

“Are you going to kill me?” She asked and he heard the sheets shift again. “Are you going to kidnap me?”

“No.” Lucius studied the stars for a moment, deciding that  _ this _ was a new low. Women used to fall at his feet, and now women asked when he was going to harm them. “I have no idea what I am doing here.” A truth. “The Headmaster saw fit to assign me as your magical guardian, as he is indisposed.” A lie.

When there was no response he looked back over at her to see she had shimmied herself down under the sheets and was now curled back into the fetal position, her nose and eyes above the lip of the sheet, her hands to her lips in prayer. She was watching him with tired eyes, exhaling shakily.”

“Do you think they know what it is?” She asked quietly.

“What made you so sure I did not curse you?”

“I think -” Here she swallowed and exhaled again “- I think we are both suffering, aren’t we? If you cursed me, then you are also cursed.”

Lucius let another truth. “It feels that way.”

The girl in the bed did finally make a demand of him, as most people did. “I’m cold.”

“You’re running a high fever.” He got up from his seat next to her bed and exited the room, away from the quiet tranquility, and into the bustle of the busy hospital. A nurse looked up from some paperwork at the desk.

“Mister Malfoy?” The woman asked.

“Fetch some blankets, I was under the impression that you were supposed to  _ care _ for your patients.”

There was no argument, the woman immediately stood and did as she was asked. He walked the length of the ward, trying to decide if he was going to come to his senses and leave, or if he would stay with her for the night nurse as he had decided. He watched the nurse come and go before deciding he would stay just a bit longer, not because of the girl, but because the responsibilities of reality somehow stayed suspended in the hospital. He entered her room to see her sleeping, thumbs to her lips in silent prayer and collapsed back into the seat, realizing that he too, needed the rest that the hospital provided, because everything hurt just a little less.

He closed his eyes and listened to her breathing in the silence, no longer raspy and rattling on the edge of death, but even and slow. The aches of the day lessened over time as his body unwound and his tension faded. He heard the blankets shift and he looked over to see her facing him, eyes closed, hands tucked now beneath her head, no longer in pain, he surmised because she was uncoiling into a relaxed position.

He relaxed too, deciding this was probably his last chance to remain unguarded. No one knew he was here, aside from the staff. No one expected anything from him, aside from the girl. As his responsibilities dwindled, so did his consciousness, and he decided he must be ill, to be here with her.  
  


* * *

  
“Well Miss Granger, you are much improved today!” A nurse exclaimed and he opened his eyes to see blinding sunlight and a woman in white fussing over the girl who was picking at some eggs and toast in bed. “Fever is just about gone, and you look miles better.”

Lucius realized half his face was covered with a blanket. “And Mister Malfoy stayed with you all night then?” 

“He is my guardian.” She said and looked over at him, her brown eyes met his and she mouthed something to him ‘what?’ ‘waste’. The girl rolled her eyes and turned back to the nurse, her face schooled in sorrow. “My parents-”

“Muggles, I know, poor dear.” The nurse patted her on the shoulder in sympathy “Well, it is good to have friends here, especially the Malfoys.”

Hermione picked up her toast and began to butter it. “Thank you Miss Thorton, Headmaster Snape will be happy to get an update on me, I am sure.”

“Ah! Right, I need to inform him! We will be back in a few hours to check on you, Miss Granger.”

She looked over at him as she buttered her hospital toast, white bread that looked like it could turn back into raw dough at any moment. “Thank you,” She said “for staying.”

Lucius pulled the blanket down and began to clean himself with spells and she seemed to be fixated on him. “It was my duty to stay, for the headmaster.”

“I thought you were going to kill me.” She bit into the toast and turned back towards her breakfast. “Thank you for not doing that too.”

“It was my duty.” He repeated and waved her off.

She switched topics “You look better.”

“Spellwork,” but he caught his reflection in the glass, his ashen color had returned to a healthy pale, the ache that usually accompanied his mornings was put off and the warmth of sunlight bathed him in a renewed energy. 

A small smile played at his lips and two fangs poked out from behind his top lip and he covered his mouth. Had she seen? Shit.

“I am leaving.”

“You will need to come back, to discharge me.” She said, spearing an egg.

Paperwork had now tied them together indefinitely. He walked out, keeping his head down until he could return to the manor and get rid of this problem. As he apparated to his gardens, ducking in through a house elf door into the elf quarters he realized that she had placed the blanket over his face.

A curse kept secret for almost 40 years, blown in three meetings with the mudblood.  
  


* * *

  
Lucius Malfoy sat at his dining room table for breakfast with the Dark Lord. Something many Death Eaters wished for, but Lucius knew better. As he braced himself for whatever surprises were waiting in the Daily Prophet, they picked at eggs, which reminded him of the girl, which reminded him of what the girl knew. He stabbed at the steak next to it, blood pooling on the plate underneath it. 

“Nothing.” The Dark Lord snarled, tossing the paper so that it landed halfway in the milk pitcher “Travers failed  _ again _ .”

Lucius looked up from his plate and at the Dark Lord who was expecting an answer from his loyal servant. “Well?”

His loyal servant, bracing for a curse stopped poking at his steak and stopped thinking about Hermione Granger and answered his lord “My lord, I am not so sure that Travers was ever right for such an important task.”

The Dark Lord stared at him momentarily, and Lucius waited for the  _ Crucio _ for disagreeing, but there was none “Yes, I suppose you’re right.”

Lucius felt panic welling up inside of him. Was this some kind of joke? Was the Dark Lord toying with him? Was he going to die at his own table? But no green light came, no more words were spoken. Somehow Travers had bought him time to complete his task, and also somehow had distracted his lord enough to save the usual morning torture session for later.

Narcissa came down an hour after the Dark Lord had left and Lucius was on his second pot of tea as he pored over the business section, trying to see if he was richer or poorer for having survived another breakfast with the Dark Lord.

“Severus told me that you are ill.” Narcissa said conversationally as the elves scrambled to serve her.

“I am better.” Lucius said with finality, closing the paper, avoiding a conversation about any weaknesses he might have around Narcissa. She loved to exploit them, in him, and in others. It is something that he liked about her, the same way he liked Severus’ self preservation. In that it was a fine trait, when it was not directed at him.

His wife of twenty or so years was wife in name only, they knew that when they got married. Narcissa was all the finest qualities of a pureblood. He knew this objectively. Cunning, quick witted, gorgeous to a fault, cold and calculating. She caught him staring and made a face of disgust. Cold.

“Severus also informed me that Draco asked to wait the week out.” Narcissa’s voice held censure.

“He is your boy.”

“And yours.” A lie. A twist of the knife. 

Lucius stood up and departed the table, not daring for more words, in case more words meant more ire. 

Instead, he enjoyed the rhythmic song of his footsteps echoing off marble floors, the chorus of greetings from the family portraits. The quiet that reminded him of the girl, the peace that came with the girl. He clenched his fist and shook his head. The girl was the newest curse amongst curses. She settled into his thoughts like a disease.

He wandered through the library, the old green carpets soft beneath his feet, the sunlight filtered through curtains and books. A fire crackled off to one side and he caught the shadow of an elf filing away books that had been misplaced. He had some books on antiques and artifacts, and he let his fingers trail along leather bound tomes, feeling latent magic spark and simmer beneath his touch as he trailed further away from the entrance, where books became loose collections of scrolls, where sun became torches, and where the sounds of the house became deadened.

“I don’t often catch you.” A portrait beside him said as Lucius wandered further into the library, escaping again from his oppressive life. “You’ve been sick.”

The portrait was six hundred years old, an ancestor that was more Gypsy than French, still with his shock of blonde hair that made him an outcast. Artelus was hidden in the stacks for the sole reason that he  _ was _ more gypsy than French. Another secret. 

“This house is sick.” Lucius replied and the painting was lost until another portrait was found a few bookcases down. “I know you can feel it.”

“You are better? You found her then?” Artelus asked, the oil painting checked him over “Abraxas was always stupid, he is the reason the house is so sick.”

“Yes, a refreshing take on my father, Artelus.” Lucius stopped, his fingers on a dark tome, the magic seeping into his skin, a welcome heat. “What do you mean her?”

“Your wife.”

“Artelus,” Lucius felt stupid for listening to this old painting, there was a reason he was banished to the artifacts stacks. “I have been married almost twenty years.”

“Not to your wife,” Artelus looked offended. “Christienne mentioned you have been sick, the mating sickness.”

“Nonsense.” Lucius continued further away from the portrait.

He passed another frame and his ancestor was there. “You inherited your father’s stupidity, you cannot deny what you are.”  
  
“I am not an animal.” Lucius hissed, suddenly worried that someone could overhear them. “I am not some _creature_. I am a pure blooded wizard, I am a man, not a monster.”

“This  _ rot _ only set in two generations ago,” A string of curses from the portrait in a language Lucius did not know. “She is sick too, yes?”

Her labored breathing suddenly came to mind, the way she was curled in pain under the hospital blankets. The way she looked at him with such anger, then such gratitude. No. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You are your father in all but name, Lucius.” Artelus snapped and then fled his portrait.

Lucius angrily pulled two books off the shelf on English artifacts and thumbed through some scrolls sitting on a pile nearby to see if there was anything worthwhile that could save him, but eventually he sighed, shelving the two books he just pulled angrily and storming further into the stacks.

Finally into grimoires, ancient Malfoy tomes in languages dead and forgotten, diaries, journals, and scripture, warded in the furthest recesses of the library for anyone who was not blood. He pulled a book down, bound in a black unfinished leather and some straps, and began to read.

Mating sickness is what Artelus said, like a dog. He came across a bundle of papers stuck together on vampiric mating habits.

He glanced over the title and the first few sentences and immediately shut it. He knew what it was from the first sentence alone. His father had succumbed to it in the end, only ten years later than he had. La Lent Mort. The Slow Death.

His father warned him that due to their curse, their magic burned hotter than a regular wizard’s and in the end, it burned you out. He looked up to see Artelus staring at him.

“The slow death.” His mouth felt dry, death came upon him quickly. “Is a mating call?”

“When you cast out who you are, it will eat you alive. That is the curse of the vampire.” Artelus said matter of factly. “And your wife is cursed to follow.”

“Narcissa?”

How many more would he kill? How much more death would trail him before he finally died?

“Don’t be stupid, Lucius.” The portrait chastised.

Hermione.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be honest, my favorite version of Lucius is long suffering Lucius, I wrote a fic about him for Samhain (another challenge fic) where he was crushed under the weight of his family's expectations for the heir to the Malfoy fortune, and it seemed to fit much better in my mind than the playboy devil-may-care Lucius that a lot of people paint him as. Lucius was a loving father to Draco in the books, spoiling him rotten, I believe this was in response to Abraxas being cruel and unfeeling to Lucius and he strived to be the opposite to his child, however I think he is sensitive enough to suffer from his family's treatment of him.


	4. Chapter 4

He sat in the hospital room staring at her, there was not much to do _but_ stare at her. The nurses said it was a relapse, He knew, but he couldn’t tell her. How could he explain this to some mudblood teenager? Death was their only option.

“You’re back, Mister Malfoy.” She said sleepily, her eyes fell upon him.

“I am.” He admitted. No secrets, he would be the cause of her death, he might as well be honest with her and let the girl die with dignity, let _himself_ die with dignity.

“They don’t know what it is, it seems to come and go.” She sounded frustrated. “I don’t even know why I’m talking to you.”

He knew. He felt it when he was around her too. That compelling draw towards honesty that came with knowing there was not enough time to weave more lies. He looked down at his hands.

“Why are you here? Am I some kind of bait for Harry? I don’t know where he is.” Her breathing became labored and he looked up to see her crying. She was pressing the heels of her hands into her face to hide it. “He left, they all did.”

“I don’t care about Harry bloody Potter.” Lucius said, frustrated by her pain, it came out in his voice and he exhaled, trying to reign in these emotions. She didn’t deserve this side of him, she was a stranger.

“What?” Hermione removed her hands to look at him shrewdly “Then, what is it? Headmaster Snape?”

“No, he doesn’t know I am here.” Lucius hedged. He couldn’t tell her.

She seemed to sense his unease and rolled onto her back staring up at the ceiling and he did the same, trying to see what she was seeing. Eventually he relaxed, staring out at the moon that was beginning its descent.

“Is the blood purity stuff because of your nature?” She asked.

“No, I’ve never...no I do not acknowledge that part of me.” Lucius admitted quietly, realizing how stupid it sounded to talk to her, but she was going to die with him, so he might as well. “It is a curse.”

“I know how it feels.” She sighed “The world’s gone mad. I am stuck in Saint Mungo’s with Lucius Malfoy, the only person who would dare to visit some lowly cursed mudblood in the Janus Thickey Ward.”

“No one has visited?” He thought she had many little friends the way Severus spoke of them.

“Maybe I am contagious, or just forgotten.” She let out a sigh “Since this started, less and less people want to be around me, except you I guess. You’re turning up everywhere.”

“How long?” He asked, aware that he knew the answer, he mouthed the month to the window in time with her reply.

“September, when I came into my magical majority.”

It was late October, time seemed to slow to a drag when you had the slow death. Every day is more painful and somehow longer than the last. When he didn’t reply for a while she shifted in her bed to look at him.

“If it’s about the sword, I don’t know where it is either.”

He glared at her. This room was supposed to be his solace from the outside. “It’s not about the sword, or Harry Potter, or any stupid useless thing that pertains to my position or yours.” 

“Why?”

“I don’t know.” A lie, and yet he wanted to die an honest man to someone. He amended his answer. “The curse.”

“Oh.” She said quietly and then “Vampires are bound to bedsides?”

She spoke of it so flippantly, it angered him. “What do you know of vampires? Why do you presume-”

“I know enough, thank you.” She snapped “Books have plenty on vampires, and none of the books speak about vampires being bound to hospitals unless this is some kind of blood cover up.”

Every time she said the word his blood boiled. She was the only person who knew and now she mocked him. “Enough!” He roared and stood up quickly, stalking towards the door, and then somehow, in an effort to save face, and somehow save _her_ he stalked back and sat down in the hospital chair. “I am your guardian.”

“I could tell them I reached my majority, and you would be free to go, Mister Malfoy.” She said with a huff. “A simple age charm would-”

“Aren’t you sick?”

“Arguing with you makes me feel better.” She bit her lip and stared at him, but he could see the edges of her mouth turned up into a small smile.

“Glad to be of service, and _as your guardian_ I recommend you sleep.” 

He dimmed the candles in the room, enjoying her silence and listening for her breathing to finally fall off into sleep. “Do you think I’ll die from this?” She asked him after a while “Some days it feels like it.”

“We’ll all die.” Lucius said and turned to look at her in the dark, a small pale face, round eyes, and her bottom lip was a bit swollen from where she tended to bite on it. 

He was no creature, no animal, and he would die with dignity, as a human man, and she would die with the same amount. He watched her drift off to sleep and wondered idly if they could be buried close to one another. Would Narcissa mind if he spent eternity with the mudblood he killed? He deserved the constant reminder, he decided, of Hermione’s death due to his family’s curse.  
  
A whimper. and his eyes moved up to see her finally sleeping, He reached out and traced his index finger along the hands that were in front of her face, relishing the warmth that reminded him of the comfort of dark magic. The way she sighed under his touch and accommodated him a bit more, stretching her hand out to meet his.

He traced the line across her palm and her hand closed around his. He froze, wondering if he had been caught in his admiration, but she made no noises.

Night stretched onwards and his chair moved closer, and she held onto him a little tighter, and sleep came quickly, not the usual fit of nightmares from Azkaban subdued by a little too much firewhiskey. His demons slept tonight, and the curse was bearable. How long before they died? 

Lucius wondered if it could wait.  
  


* * *

  
There was something about knowing that she was in the same boat as him that made her a kindred spirit. He woke in the first few hours of dawn, his fingers still tightly grasped in her hand. The light hurt his eyes and he winced as he closed the curtains, plunging them into a comfortable darkness.

He watched her sleep for a few moments, cataloguing everything about her, her hair was spelled clean and becoming unbearably frizzy, her skin was red from fever and cleansing charms that obviously irritated it. Her lips were chapped and slightly parted as she breathed on their hands near her mouth. He could feel the heat of her breath on his fingertips.

In a room without judgement, he was free to act as he wished, and currently that wish was to just stare at her and know that he would be responsible for this slow madness into the grave for the two of them.

He touched his tongue to his fangs and knew that there was an easy way out, but his father warned him of the curse of the vampire: “It is better to die as a pureblood than to live as a vampire.”

In this room without judgement, without responsibility, or social mores, Lucius let a thought pass through his head about what it might be like to live as a vampire. No sunlight, no French food, no death. The last option was intriguing, but what was to live when he was no longer a human being but some monster.

Soft footsteps on tile. He extricated his fingers from hers.

“Mister Malfoy!” The nurse exclaimed, setting down a tray, startling Hermione into wakefulness which, for some unknown reason, irritated him. “We didn’t expect you so early.”

“I was just checking in on the girl before I went about my business for today.”

Hermione shot him a dirty look, knowing very well that he had stayed the night and lied about it. “I am thinking I am well enough to return to Hogwarts today.”  
  
Yes, well, we’ll be the judge of that Miss Granger.” The nurse said pulling her wand out of her sleeves and beginning to run the diagnostic spells. “We called a Ministry specialist over today. Lead Healer Fitz thinks you may have been attacked by a creature of some sort.”

Hermione’s eyes flicked towards him and then back to the Nurse. “There’s no need, I believe my guardian wants to release me back into the care of Hogwarts.”

“Mister Malfoy?”

If they found out what this sickness was, then his secret was as good as published on the front page of the Daily Prophet. He fixed his eyes on the nurse. “I think what Miss Granger wants is best.”

The nurse’s eyes went glassy and she nodded with a smile. “Of course Mister Malfoy.” A breathy tone and he caught Hermione glaring at him.

“You will get the discharge papers.”

“I will...anything.” The spells were forgotten so Hermione continued to glow a bright blue from the diagnostic spells. The nurse turned and left the room without another word.

“Did you just _imperius_ her?”

No, no this was not an imperius. This was _old magic_. It had returned with a force. He hadn’t experienced this type of power since his early twenties. Usually he had to focus it, but it seemed to be enough that he had panicked.

“No,” He snapped, “Did you see me draw a wand?”

She crossed her arms, pushing away the toast and eggs. “I have heard that Death Eaters are good with wandless magic.”

He filed that compliment for later. “When you have money, many people act as if they are under imperius.”

“Disgusting.” She said and he opened his mouth to retort when he realized she was talking about the food.

“As I am responsible for your wellbeing,” A half truth, no lies, not to her. “I will make sure you get some food before we return to Hogwarts.”

“Don’t worry about me, Mister Malfoy, I am more than capable of raiding the kitchens at Hogwarts, besides, I don’t think you can go out like that.”

As he filled out the paperwork and read over the symptoms that were now supposedly cured she pushed around the scrambled eggs that were, for some reason, slightly grey. “When I got sick, at first, everyone was nice and tried to help, but after awhile, I guess they got rid of the weak.”

“It’s a war,” Lucius commented idly as his eyes trailed down the list of treatments, trying to memorize them for himself, when he needed them later after the sickness came for him again. “I don’t blame them.”

“Yeah, me either.” She sighed and swung her legs off the bed, facing him now. “Survival of the fittest and all that. I’ll get changed.”

Her symptoms were written neatly on the top of the next page. _Extreme fatigue, disorientation, fever, dry mouth, aversion to light and sound, headaches, hemophilia_. The fact that the girl had been wandering around Hogwarts for the last month with these symptoms shocked him. He watched her disappear into the bathroom and there was the telltale hiss of a shower cutting on.

How long would he suffer before they both died? His mind went back to his father’s death. It was a lengthy affair, and costly, because he would not admit that the curse had finally gotten to him, despite knowing very well what it was. Perhaps he did not, they called it the slow death, not mating sickness. Months, he sighed, months at the least, perhaps a year. She would suffer the same, he was not sure how it affected others. He didn’t want to read it, or acknowledge it.

She emerged from the bathroom in her school uniform, wrinkled and ill-fitting. She must have lost weight as well. Lucius withdrew his wand from his sleeve and spelled her clothes and tailored her uniform. She yelped and recoiled from him, reaching for her own wand on the sink behind her and pointing it towards him.

He could see her collarbones sticking out painfully underneath her half buttoned shirt. Lucius wondered if she would save him, if the tables were turned?

“Oh.” She commented, looking down at her shirt, giving it an experimental tug.

He couldn’t save her. He was not a good person, and he would not lose that which made him a person in the first place. Morality, ethics, self discipline. Lucius signed the paperwork and she pulled open the curtains, but he quickly recoiled in pain, snapping the quill he was holding and covering his face. It felt like someone had driven a knife into his eyes.

“Oh! Oh, I’m sorry Mister Malfoy.” She said and the room plunged into darkness “I didn’t know what type-”  
  
“I don’t have a type!” He snarled “I’m not a vampire!”

She stared at him as if he had gone mad, her eyes trailing to his mouth where his two fangs before snapping up to his eyes. There was confusion, and then she turned away from him, laying back down in bed.

“I am not leaving until tonight.”

“Get out of bed.”

“I won’t endanger you.” She said resolutely “I will not leave until it is safe for you.”

Would she save him? Lucius learned that she absolutely would, and for him, that was a first.  
  


* * *

  
Artelus followed him back into the stacks. “You’ve met her again? Your wife.”

“Don’t call her my wife.” Lucius wondered if he could outrun a painting, or perhaps banish him? The thought was tempting. “I did.”

“Then you have turned her?” The painting sounded hopeful.

“No.” Lucius sat down at the table, looking at the black book of his family’s magic, a collection of everything the Malfoy’s had tried to forget. “I will not.”  
“Then she will die, and you will follow.” Artelus snapped “The curse is watching _her_ die, not your death.”

Lucius’ hand stilled on another chapter of vampiric lore, the thought of her dying because of him physically hurt, and he didn’t understand why. He shook his head, his blonde hair coming loose from the ribbon he had tied it in.

“Wizard, vampire, or toad, death does not _discriminate_. To watch her die, it will truly drive you mad.” Artelus said and the silence stretched between them “Your father ignored these warnings. Do not repeat his mistakes.”

The paper underneath his hand was the last page on the mating sickness “ _excerpt from L’entant pour Obscurities_ ”

A few _accios_ and he realized that it must be at the French estate. He seethed at the injustice of it.

As he stalked to the kitchens he remembered the last few months of his father’s life in the manor. Lucius had no love for his father, and the end was particularly harsh, Lucius thought that it was due to pain, but with Artelus’ last words to him, he realized the madness was caused by the vampirism. He still could not enter his father’s room, the master bedroom of the manor, because the sickness had soaked into the carpets and the wallpapers. It smelled like firewhiskey and dreamless sleep, both much abused until he did not wake one morning. When Abraxas was lucid, he would bark orders that drove some elves to suicide, and Lucius would wait for him to drink a bottle or two before approaching him.

Lucius wondered if Narcissa would kill him in the first two weeks of his sickness, or let him die in that slow agonizing manner as his father did. Narcissa would probably spit on his grave after she watched him suffer for a few weeks out of fun. On the other hand, Hermione stayed in the hospital another twelve hours, getting poked at by Ministry employees so that he could stay in the darkness of the room until it was safe to leave. Hermione would cry if he died. 

He poked at the rare steak on the plate and decided it was maybe a little too cooked today, but chewed methodically anyways.

“Master Lucius, Mistress Narcissa has asked for you.”

The idea of talking to Narcissa was vile at the moment, “I have no time for her.”

“It’s regarding Master Draco.”

He picked up the glass of wine and inspected his fingers around the stem. Was this life even worth living anymore? Hiding from his wife in the kitchens, avoiding conversations about a child he pretended was his. Was it worse to live as a monster, or a cuckold?

He sipped his wine and let it rest on his tongue before swallowing to answer. “I am not here, Tuppy, please relay this to your Mistress.”

Did Hermione like wine?


	5. Chapter 5

It was Friday. His whole body ached, the wind cut through his robes to the bone, and he had a pounding headache from being apart from Hermione too long. His teeth hurt from his morning ablutions, the sunlight hurt, and he was unbearably hungry. The curse of the vampire was this long and painful death and the walk up from the gates of Hogwarts was equally as long.

It was on his walk up the stairs to the Headmaster’s office that he caught sight of her, leaning against a wall, her chest heaving, her hair in disarray, and a book loosely hanging from one hand, her eyes closed. His body was so attuned to her presence that he stepped towards her inadvertently and cursed himself. She was not his. He had a wife, he had a  _ place _ and she had hers.

“Mister Malfoy.” Her voice was airy, and he knew he was torturing her. “Are you okay?”

It was her concern, perhaps that made their places not so different after all. The decision clicked into place almost as a reflex “Come with me.”

“Is this a kidnapping?”

He could. He could do it easily. She was weak, a smaller part of him commented that he was also weak, but he ignored it. His hand came around her wrist and she dropped the book. 

“Yes.” He admitted. What else could be done? He couldn’t live without her. Maybe he could cage her in the manor. His brain so violently kicked back at the thought of harming her that he had to close his eyes. “No.”

“Mister Malfoy, since you have been...somewhat of a friend, I will help you, with a vow.” Hermione said quietly, afraid of being overheard.

A vow? Now? “We don’t have a bonder.”

“Not that kind.” She stepped away from him and almost tripped over herself, but he caught her again. “Just a...I can’t even think clearly. This stupid sickness. Just a wand oath” She fumbled with her wand and 

Lucius’ wand was out before she even finished the sentence “Fine.”

“Promise me that you will not use me, or any knowledge and connections I may have, to assist the Dark Lord, or his goals.” She held her wand “Or hurt me.”

“I, Lucius Arcteus Malfoy, do solemnly swear on my magic to not harm Hermione Granger, or use her, her mind, or her connections, to further the Dark Lord’s goals.” The magic of the binding bathed them both and she looked up at him, fearful of what she had done.

“Kidnap me then?” She said breathlessly.  
  
Lucius looked down at her wrist where they touched. “Now?” He squeezed her wrist experimentally. What about Draco? What about the sword?

“Preferably before one of the Carrows comes.” She took a step towards the stairwell. “I don’t want to get another detention for breathing while being a mudblood.”

She bent down and stumbled as she scraped the book she dropped off the floor, cursing at herself as she braced against the wall again “Everything  _ hurts _ .”

“Come on,” Lucius said, his mind still screaming with a thousand worries “Lean on me.”

She looked up at him, a grateful type of confusion that silenced the thousands of “what abouts” and leaned against him as they walked down the staircases. Lucius’ hand came around her waist, carefully watching her steps as they descended.

Her whole body was warm, that warmth that he forgot came from other people, the type of warmth he had slowly replaced by practicing darker and darker magics. She came to the landing and bent over coughing.

“I feel better, I really do. Hold on.”

Lucius bent down to pick her up, impatient, and felt vertigo immediately. No. He couldn’t.

“Are you okay?” She asked, her hand on his back.

It was the slowest escape in his short lifetime, and after they walked for awhile down the lawns of Hogwarts she laughed at the ridiculousness of it.

“Where are we going? Not far I hope.”

He still held her wrist and withdrew his wand.

“France.”

She hugged her book to her chest, a resigned look on her face.

Hopes dashed.

* * *

In the first few hours of really being with a completely lucid, and completely ill Hermione, he learned that she loved reading, didn’t care about the absolutely disgusting state of the abandoned French estate, forgot about her tea often, and hated Hogwarts.

“To be honest,” She said, half asleep on a chair, a silk duvet wrapped around her, tucked neatly under her chin. “I was there because I had nowhere else.”

Hermione slept a lot, and she liked fires. She didn’t care much about his motives, or vampirism. She asked what he needed help with a few times, but he realized he had no answer. When he told her as much, she shrugged. “I am here because you were there when I needed it, so I will be here until you need me.”

He walked through the dark corridors of the French estate, covered in dirt, cobwebs, and who knows what else, spelling it clean as he walked. He wondered if it was the right thing to do, to clean the tomb that they would both lay in eventually, but he supposed she deserved to die in comfort. He opened the master bedroom and pulled off some white sheets from the furniture and looked at the rococo furniture. He needed an elf, an army of elves, to clean this whole place up, but for now, a bedroom would do.

He was not good at household charms, and after stripping some of the wallpaper off the walls, and covering half the room in down feathers from the bed, it was good enough to sleep in. He could sleep in the library.

Lucius tapped his finger on his lips while he watched her sleep, the fire popped merrily beside her and he sat down in the chair next to hers, reaching out tentatively to touch her hand, and when she didn’t respond, he moved his fingers down from hers, to trace over her palm, and then to her wrist, feeling her pulse underneath his finger tips to remind him that she was here with him.

There were a lot of mistakes he made today, and his eyes kept drifting to his dark mark, hidden under his robes, waiting for his lord to remember his richest house elf hadn’t come home yet. Narcissa, of course, would be equally angry that he hadn’t fetched, and hid Draco in this estate. Severus, angry that he had stolen his student. But then again, they were dying anyways, what did it matter if they were missing?

Death was the great equalizer, Artelus had said, and so he was equal with his mudblood, and she was equal to him. Unfortunately for the both of them, this equality came at their lowest points.

He got up after a while, when the fire burned down to embers, picking her up in a bundle of blankets and letting the book fall to the chair. “I am sorry that I am me, and you are you.” Lucius said carrying her up the stairs towards the master bedroom.  
  


* * *

  
Lucius woke to her voice, no longer strained or breathy with illness, she was apologizing to someone, and it was not him. He opened his eyes to see three elves lined up by her bed. “I am not your mistress,” She said, “and your master is sleeping. I think...oh this feels  _ wrong _ doesn’t it. If you could prepare us breakfast. Some toast and,” here he heard some pages turning “steak is okay, for him. Rare.” She looked back at the elves assembled in front of her “If curtains are open, close them, if you could, please. Thank you.”

“Mistress is good to be using elves, Tinny will be cleansing right away.” The elves all chorused “Thank you Mistress” and with a  _ pop _ the room was empty.

“What do you want with me, Mister Malfoy?” She asked him from the bed, when there was no response. She sighed “Strange man.”

Mornings were easier with Hermione, he decided it was because there were no false pretenses. He didn’t have to file his teeth down, he didn’t have to wait for her to strike him, or to ask for money, or anything really. She propped a book up on a vase of fresh flowers and ate in silence, looking over at him oddly every few moments. He realized she was reading a book on Vampirism and said nothing. It must be where she learned that he liked his steak rare.

“How can I help you, Mister Malfoy?”

“First,” Lucius cut his steak and speared it, blood seeping out onto the plate “call me Lucius.”

She agreed with a hum, her mouth full of a croissant, she flipped another page. “Next?”

“There is no next.” He admitted “I had no plan when I left England, as I am sure you also did. Enjoy your day.”

“I thought I was supposed to help you?” She tapped her finger on the book. “I assume you need help with this?”

“Need help with what?”

“You know, vampirism.”

“I don’t need help with something that I am  _ not _ .”

She looked at his mouth, then his plate, then his mouth again, before raising an eyebrow. “In my opinion, vampires  _ and _ werewolves are unfairly treated. Besides, I am not stupid Mal...Lucius.”

If she had met Fenrir Greyback she would have a different opinion on werewolves. Lucius went back to eating and she went back to reading. “That castle was making you sick.” A lie, he swallowed it and replied “I know what it’s like to be sick all the time.”

“Today is not a bad day,” She sipped her orange juice and sighed “It comes and goes, that’s what makes it so maddening.”

“I am aware.” He looked over at the girl and checked her over to make sure she was really feeling better. 

With Hermione there were no appearances to keep, no lies to uphold. Lucius enjoyed the first relaxing morning of his life, his fangs sinking into the beef.

Hermione did many things Lucius, himself, found both strange and comforting. Strange because he had never been around someone like her, and comforting because he had never been around someone like her. She spoke to many things, herself, the books, the elves, and sometimes him. When he caught her walking around the manor alone, she would hum to herself, conducting an invisible orchestra with her index finger. The strangest thing was that she never asked him what exactly they were doing there.

After a few days they were both back to health, and she had taken to walks in the evening outside in the hour between dusk and dark, twisting throughout the dead garden and enjoying the silence of his company.

“France agrees with me,” She said. “Much more than England did.”

He didn’t admit that it was his presence that made her well, as well as his lack of presence that made her sick. So he remained silent, turning another corner into a dead rose garden, letting his fingers scrape against the pruned branches. The elves were beginning to light the rooms in the manor, it leaked out into the dark gardens, illuminating their path.

“I know I was the weakest link and all, it is a war.” She sighed “It was just so sudden. I wasn’t useful anymore. People I thought were my friends suddenly had no patience for me.”

He tried to ignore the feeling of  _ anger _ that anyone would discard her when she clearly would help anyone who came to her as he did, because she was just a mudblood. “Selfish,” He admitted at last. “I thought your house was supposed to be brave  _ and _ loyal.”

“Just brave, I guess. Sick people are not brave.” Hermione sighed “Were you turned recently?”

“No, I have been cursed since birth.” He said matter of factly. “It’s just becoming unbearable now.”

“I’ve met you many times, Mister Malfoy, and I have never put you down as a vampire.”

She turned to step in front of him, leaning towards him, her eyes clearly on his mouth and he took a step back. Her eyes glittered in the light from the manor. “Do you glamour them?”

“No, I file them down.”

A gasp as she covered her mouth, her eyes wide in horror. “Lucius.” It came out muffled behind her hand but he looked at her strangely. 

“Glamours can be seen through.” He explained, as if it somehow made more sense that way. 

Her eyes started to shine and she turned away from him, her shoulders hunched. “Is it really so awful to be a vampire?”

“I am not a vampire.” Lucius pressed “I am cursed, and I will break this curse, and I won’t be destined to live as some  _ creature _ .”

“Is that what you brought me here for? To help you-” here she paused, trying to think of some tact “break this curse?”

“It seems like it.” Not a lie, not a truth either.

“Do you know who the sire is?” She asked, beginning to walk back towards the manor “That is the only way I know of.”

“The sire? My father.”  
  
“If you were born a vampire, that means your parents were both infected.” She said walking up the stairs into the house “Who bit them? Who was the first vamp-...cursed Malfoy? That is the only way for victims to return their humanity, at least that’s what it said in _Vampires of Bohemia: A Biography_ ” 

Lucius learned that Hermione Granger was _very_ smart, and it explained why Draco complained about her endlessly. “It is our family curse, since the beginning of the written accounts of the family. Hence the name _Malfoy_.”  
“Bad faith,” Hermione hummed in agreement. “I have been doing some readings, but I don’t know much about _you_. This makes it hard to figure out much about your vamp...merlin, your curse. Since I am repaying a debt to you, I would like to know how I can help _you_. Since we’ve come here you barely speak to me at all.”

“I would like a wand oath.” 

There was an annoyed sigh, and she withdrew her wand, and before he even asked the vow she spoke her own. “I, Hermione Jane Granger, swear on my magic that I will protect and keep all secrets of Lucius Arcteus Malfoy.” She bit her lip and continued “And that I will not harm him or use him for any reason.”

The binding magic washed over them and she continued to walk towards the library, and he began to speak secrets that had never left his lips, because if they were to die together, what was the use of lying.

“One,” Lucius said as tea was served and she settled into a chair next to the fire “I am not a vampire, a vampire is made when he tastes human blood. Therefore I am not a beast, or some creature.”

“Vampires are not  _ beasts _ , they have dignity and deserve our respect.” Hermione shot back.

Lucius bit his tongue, annoyed at the interruption, and glared at her, she turned her attention back to the fire and he continued. “So, you see, I am just a cursed wizard. Unfortunately, curses have timelines too, and so I am coming to the end of mine. I will die soon.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s a curse.” He was exasperated, he just told her as much!

“Because you are living a lie.” She shot back, the fire reflected in her eyes “You are not an ordinary wizard, and you are not a vampire. You are living a half life, and have the life span of one.”

He waved her off impatiently. “Well, be that as it may. The curse is slowly taking my life, and I will die unless I find the Malfoy sire, probably here in France.”

“Or you could stop being an utter prat and acknowledge you are a vampire instead of relying on prejudices that will ultimately kill you.” Hermione was flush with anger now. “You are a vampire, Lucius Malfoy, your father was one, your grandfather was one. Are they animals? Were they disgusting creatures, beneath even you?”

“My father  _ never _ drank from a human. He died as I will, with  _ dignity _ .” Lucius thought perhaps he could die now, since he never thought he would be defending Abraxas Malfoy of all people.

“You really will die from something you could easily cure?” She looked at him incredulously. 

“Dignity before death.” Lucius watched her wander deeper into the library.

“In your case,” Her voice was muffled by the books “Dignity  _ and _ death.”


	6. Chapter 6

He woke up to screaming early in the morning, and he scrambled out of bed to figure out what it was, the elves were all gathered in the hall outside of Hermione’s room, unwilling to enter.

“Master! Mistress-”

“Wha- _ move _ .” He hissed pounding on the door and then when there was another scream, he blasted the door open with an  _ Alohamora _ . 

In the room, a majority of the furniture still under white sheets held giving it a ghostly aura, Hermione sat alone, staring at an unseen attacker.

“ _ Lumos _ .” He hissed and walked towards where she was staring. He couldn’t feel anyone in the room with them, but he could not be sure. “ _ Revelio _ .”

Hermione was breathing heavily and he looked back at her, her fingers tangled up in her hair, her eyes glassy and unfocused. “No, it’s...it’s just a nightmare.”

She was a child, what could she possibly be having nightmares about that would produce those kinds of screams? Lucius lowered his wand and approached the beds, waving the elves off that were peeking into the room. When she lifted her head up he could see the beginnings of a scar on her collarbone. 

She wiped the sweat and tears off her face and looked away from him. “Did I wake you?”

“It’s of no matter.” He waved her off.

They sat in silence. Lucius cursed his awkwardness with her and wished he could say something to calm her, but Narcissa hardly needed calming, and Hermione hardly wanted seduction.

“I also have been cursed,” She said quietly “By your friends.”

Lucius’ eyes went down to his arm where the mark was hidden by his silk pajamas. “War makes us into fools.” He hummed “I also do not condone cursing children but-” here Lucius’ slid her eyes over to her “I do not condone creating child soldiers either.”

“I am not a child soldier, I am of age.”

“I know you think that your group is secret, but I assure you, I am not blind to Dumbledore’s machinations at Hogwarts.” Lucius sighed and looked up at the canopy of the master bedroom, he had only been in here once as a child, when his father was raiding the ancestral home, probably for the same reason he was here. 

He continued when he had no reply. “The last war was fought and won on the bodies of many ancient families,  _ including _ the Potters. It is why Dumbledore has turned to children, and the Dark Lord has turned to the undead and the wolves. There simply aren’t enough people left to fight a second war not twenty years after the first.”

“A war you gladly will fight again? To eradicate mudbloods?”

Lucius let out a puff of air, letting his tongue run over his fangs. “No.”

“No?” Hermione looked at him strangely “But you’re Lucius Malfoy.”

He laughed at the use of his full name and looked at the girl that the curse would soon take from him. “Be it beyond me to be anything more than a villain to schoolchildren.”

She laughed at this, and he turned so she couldn’t see his smile. At last, something more from Hermione than thinly veiled disdain and pity. 

“You make a very good villain.” She replied.

“I live to serve,” He looked at the elves who were peeking in through the door “The elves would like to know if they can also serve.”

“Why are you being kind to me?” She asked shrewdly “Why  _ me _ ?”

“I think fate is laughing at me.” Lucius waved to the elves, and they came in with a tea tray and some macarons.

He looked back at the girl who was sliding out of bed and pulling a white sheet off of a nearby table to eat. The thing he hated most about Hermione is how she made everything easy, and for a moment, to accept their bond, was almost an easy decision to make  
  


* * *

  
It was a few days later that everything changed, and Lucius couldn’t blame anyone but himself for it, because after all, it was his idea.

Hermione was preparing for dinner, humming to herself as she walked along, reading another book “Vampires: Fact or Fiction?” when an elf approached her

“Mistress Hermione,” Anty said, wringing her hands in her tea towel “Some visitors have arrived.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes towards the foyer, as if trying to see through walls to discern who the visitor was. “Anty, it’s just Hermione, your mistress is in England. Did they tell you anything?”

“Relatives of Master Lucius.” Anty replied “They are waitings outside, Mistress.”

Hermione looked panicked, and he heard her whisper “Narcissa.”  
  
“I wrote to them a few days ago,” Lucius said coming out of his study, “About the Malfoy sire.”

Hermione let out a huff of frustration “It really is ridiculous, you’re living as a vampire now, is it so hard to just continue this without violence?” She waved the book at him in goodbye before sulking off down to the dining hall. “I’ll head to dinner alone then.”

Lucius walked to greet his cousin, or what he supposed was a very  _ very _ distant cousin. The house elves had cleaned most of the first floor in preparation for their arrival. He traced back their lineage to know that they must be cursed as he was.

When he opened the door to see a shock of blonde hair that matched his own, Lucius could not doubt they were related. The man, who was so pale he was almost translucent, had piercing blue eyes, and a red smile. “Cousin!”

“Yes, you must be Etienne, please come in, we’ve been expecting you.” Lucius said gesturing towards the foyer.

Etienne walked past him and behind him followed a very thin and pale man who reminded him of a very sick Hermione. “And this is?”

“No one.” Etienne waved off, “I have not been back to this estate in quite some time. You have cleaned it up well, cousin!”

Etienne was impeccably dressed, down to his boots that were the latest fashion in Paris. He was thin and tall with that confident swagger that Lucius had in his twenties, but according to the lineage, Etienne was his father’s age. Perhaps Lucius was wrong about his divergent nature?

They adjourned to his study and Lucius pulled out some firewhiskey, three glasses, and Etienne waved it off “No need, Benoit does not drink, do you?”

“No sir, I do not drink.” The man mumbled, crossing his hands neatly and sitting off in a dark corner. “Thank you sir.”

“Is he your-”

“Well, you’re the first Malfoy from England to come back here and slum it up on the continent.” Etienne interrupted and Lucius bit his tongue in irritation. “I assume you are also the first Malfoy in England to embrace the gift?”

Lucius sat down in a chair across from Etienne and studied the man, and after a moment of silence, Etienne bared his teeth and tapped one fang with a nail. “Your grandfather Arctaeus was really...” Here the male vampire rolled his eyes.

“I am curious, of course.” Lucius said smoothly, trying to ignore the fact that Etienne and Draco seemed to have exactly the same manners.

“Of course, well, we always treat family well here, so you will be meeting the others soon, yes?” Etienne looked him over shrewdly and he turned to look towards the fire, he sniffed the air briefly like a dog. “But you are not turned yet.”

“It is unwise to make decisions before understanding what those decisions entail.” Lucius sipped his firewhiskey.

“You will die soon then, or worse, you’ll be old.” Here Etienne laughed and Lucius tightened his grip on his wand. “You asked for information, and I am here, ask away, cousin.”

“When did the Malfoy family receive...the gift?” Lucius asked, his eyes trailing over to where Benoit was sitting in the corner.

“Let’s not talk about history, cousin.” Etienne pouted “It’s so boring.” 

“Are there others I can speak with?” Lucius pressed, if vampires became as vapid as Etienne, he might as well kill himself now and be done with it.

Here, the vampire did something useful and handed him a small card “This is the spot, dress to impress, and I am sure you will find others. It’s hard being in this drafty old shack by yourself, eh?”

Etienne inhaled sharply, his pupils going wide, his eyes swiveling towards the door to his study. “Not alone.”

“No,” Lucius said cautiously “There is another in the house, and some servants.”

He heard Hermione’s shoes clicking off the tile near his study and then finally she stopped. His eyes travelled to Benoit who was still looking at a piece of wallpaper, and then his idiotic cousin.

“Lucius?” She asked, stepping into the room “I was on my way to the library and thought I should intro-”

“A virgin.” Etienne whispered in awe, he cocked Lucius a smile that made his blood run cold. “Cousin you shouldn’t have!”

“Excuse me,” Hermione said, disgusted “I guess manners run in the Malfoy family.”

“Come here, little one.” Etienne said, cocking his head, a cascade of blonde hair falling over his shoulder as he beckoned for her.

“ _ Excuse me _ .” Hermione turned her attention to Lucius, and Etienne growled in frustration. “I’ll just be in the library then.”

“My sweet  _ cherie _ , come here.” Etienne cooed again and he  _ felt _ the air thicken around them with latent magic. He knew that magic, it was old magic. He had used it many times before an imperius without the unforgivable.

“Don’t speak to her.” Lucius snapped. “Hermione,  _ go _ .”

Hermione seemed to sense that there was something wrong because she took a step back and Etienne  _ lunged _ at her in a flurry of fabric and blonde hair and Lucius withdrew his wand only to see a very sickly Benoit now pointing a wand at him.

Etienne’s fingers wrapped around Hermione’s pretty throat and he saw her fumbling for her wand. “Are you his first meal? We can share.”

Hermione made a choked noise her wand clattering to the wooden floor of their study. Lucius swung his wand in a wide arc, killing Benoit and slicing at his cousin, but Etienne took no mind, instead throwing Hermione to the ground with a sickening  _ crack _ of her head against hardwood and the whole room was fragrant with her blood.

Hermione grabbed her wand quickly and fired another curse from the ground, backing up away from the vampire who was currently looking at her like a man possessed. She touched the back of her head and started muttering under her breath.

Nothing affected the vampire and Hermione scrambled backwards from him, towards Lucius. Etienne grabbed her ankle and pulled her towards him and Lucius cast the killing curse, the whole room lighting up green in a desperate attempt to save Hermione.

“You can’t kill the undead.” Hermione shrieked in panic, her hands grabbing at the carpet desperate for purchase and finding none. “Lucius!”

Panic and then clarity. He shot a binding curse towards the vampire followed quickly by another, and soon his cousin was wrapped in cords upon cords, his hand still clinging to Hermione’s leg. 

She kicked away from him and scrambled to find her wand, claw marks like candy cane stripes down her calves. “Not a meal.” Etienne said “A mate.”

“Animal.” Lucius spat.

The cords began to unwind like snakes slithering off the vampire, and Lucius realized that the old magic did more than bend people to his will. Etienne threw off Lucius' binding curse thrown off like dirt on his robes. Etienne moved towards Hermione again, who now had her wand and was backing towards Lucius for protection.

“My apologies, love, it explains why you didn’t come willingly.” Etienne looked over at Benoit who was now bleeding in two parts on the flooring. “A shame, really. Virgins these days are not always to taste.”

Lucius grabbed Hermione and pulled her into him for protection. “Leave.” Lucius hissed, feeling her blood run down his fingers as he cradled her head. “Leave before I kill you a thousand ways.” 

Etienne reached out, his fingers catching on some curls streaked with her blood. His white fingers were streaked red as he walked out. Lucius could hear his designer boots clicking off the marble in the foyer, and then it was silent, save for Hermione who was breathing heavily into his robes.

“I will kill you this instant, Lucius Malfoy. Let go of me!”

He ignored her and summoned an elf, his eyes trailing over the corpse of Benoit. “Anty, clean this mess.”

A pop as the elf appeared. “Master Luc-...oh! This blood will stain.”  
  


* * *

  
Hermione was sitting patiently in the dining room while he attended to the wound on the back of her head, his fingers sticky with her blood. Her wand was in a death grip in her hand. Her body vibrated with anger.

“I can’t believe how  _ stupid _ I was to think that you had any noble reason for-...that you were some kind of  _ kindred _ spirit!”

Finally he had cleared the wound of all the hair that was caught and cast a healing charm over her. “If you would stop  _ ranting _ for a moment and let me explain.”

“What on earth would you say that could make this any less-” Here she turned to him and glared “I will  _ not _ be a homewrecker.”

He tore his eyes from the blood on his fingers, trying to ignore how it smelled so alluring, and spelled his hands cleaned before he could contemplate it any more. The way his cousin acted confirmed it. Vampires were unhinged  _ monsters _ that tried to attack Hermione and almost killed her.

“This has nothing to do with...carnal desires, and everything to do with the curse.”

“Convenient for you to bring it up now.” Hermione said, standing up and gingerly feeling the back of her head. “I have nothing to do, and will  _ never _ have anything to do with your vampirism, Lucius Malfoy.”

She stormed out of the dining room, three elves trailing behind her asking a chorus of questions about her health. “I am leaving!” She said “Do not follow me! I am not your mistress and if I could, I would free you all.”

The three elves, and Lucius watched her up the stairs. “Master is a bad man.” Anty said quietly “Master is  _ bad _ .”

“I am not bad,” He felt like a fool for defending himself to his own servants. “Hermione!”

“Leave me alone, Malfoy!” Hermione’s voice trailed down the empty halls “I’m going back to England. I’d rather be tortured at Hogwarts than some... _ whore _ .”

He walked up the stairs slowly, each step a new imagined conversation that would get her to stay with him. He didn’t love her. He just needed her. He would pay her. He would give her anything she wanted to stay with him a bit longer. Each sounded more desperate than the last. However when he came upon the master bedroom to see her stuffing her school uniform into a small bag along with a book.

“I caused your sickness.”

Hermione’s eyes blazed “You did  _ what _ ?”

“I told you earlier, it’s the curse.” Lucius tried to keep the panic of losing Hermione out of his voice. He was not going to be controlled by some girl.

“You knew? You watched me suffer in Hogwarts, in Saint Mungos? For what?”

“We  _ both _ will suffer.” He hissed, angry at what she was implying. “It’s called mating sickness.”

Hermione went still, and when he looked up at her, he saw that she was staring at a wall. “I would rather  _ die _ than be involved with you.” She closed the bag and held her wand out in front of her.

“And you will!” Lucius’ temper got the better of him. “Leave!”

For all the things he learned about Hermione, learning her anger was the hardest. Instead of Narcissa’s, which was ice and silence. Hermione was fire. 

It took him only a few minutes to follow her outside into the darkness.  
  


* * *

  
The countryside was illuminated by moonlight, rolling hills of grass and forest, freckled with farmland from muggles. Hermione was walking down over the lawn, the wind catching her hair as she walked away from him. Lucius was careful to keep his distance, following some ten meters behind her.

She seemed to have noticed him because he caught her looking over her shoulder at him a few times but she elected to say nothing. Her gait slowed a bit after twenty minutes and finally, she spoke.

“When did you know?” She asked.

“Saint Mungos.” He tried to remain aloof but he knew he had hurt her, and for some reason that hurt him. “We had the same symptoms.”

“The books said that vampires need to mate.” 

“I am not a vampire.” Lucius said quietly, steel in his voice. “And I will not mate.”

“And you will die?”

“Yes.”

“You said if I leave your side then I will die.”

“Yes.”

“So you intend to kill me?”

He had come to terms with this last week, but he still could not form the words. Death would come for them either way. “I intend to kill the sire, so neither of us have to die, or do things that we would...regret.”

Hermione stopped at this. “The one vampire we have both met you could barely _distract_ enough to leave your home, and if the Malfoy line has been infected for centuries, the sire must be very old and powerful indeed.”  
  
“I can protect my own.” Lucius argued

“I am not yours!”  
  
“You are in my care, Hermione! You are my responsibility.”

“I am no one to you Lucius, but an inconvenience, just like your heritage, just like  _ my _ heritage is to you.” She spat and began to walk away “If I die, I will die alone, I would rather be dead in Paris than spend another minute alive next to you.”

“I won’t let you die.” Lucius caught her wrist “I don’t intend to die either.”  
  
She yanked her wrist from his grasp, her hair caught the wind and he could feel the air thickening with her magic. “I’m leaving.”

“I will follow.” Lucius replied quickly. “Paris, England, to the ends of the earth, I will follow you Hermione.”

She quieted at this, perhaps she finally realized how dangerous he was. “I will hide.”

“I will find you. I am a desperate man with both means and ways.” Lucius urged “Come back to the manor, I will not beg. I need to kill the Malfoy sire, and to do this, I need you.”

Here, he noticed she had her wand in her hand, and was contemplating what to do for a moment, until her eyes slid over to the brightly lit manor.

“I want an oath.”  
  
“You always want an oath.”

“Yeah, well, how am I supposed to trust someone who wants me dead?”

“What do you want now? Unbreakable vow? Blood oath?”

She held out her hand. Blood oath it was then.

“I want a promise,” She extended her pinky “Now.”

Lucius held out his hand, not sure if she was going to cut him. 

“Promise.” She insisted.

He looked down at their hands, illuminated by moonlight. “I, Lucius Arcteus Malfoy, do promise to protect-”

“And be honest.”

“I, Lucius Arcteus Malfoy, do promise to protect, care for, and...be honest to Hermione Granger.”

“And not kill.”

“Hermione!”

“And heal her ankle that my cousin scratched up like a cat.” Here she twined her pinky around his.

“I promise.”

“And to stop being such a ponce.”

His anger faded quickly when he saw light dancing in her eyes.

“I do not promise that.” He said very seriously, meeting her gaze.

She bent her hand so their thumbs touched and he was sure that the binding was so sinister and dark in nature, that he could not feel it. She smiled. 

“It’s sealed.”

Lucius didn’t know what that meant, but he was not sure he wanted to know either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lucius Malfoy making pinky promises is literally my aesthetic


	7. Chapter 7

“Honestly,” Hermione asked as he checked the cuts on her ankle to see if they had become infected. “I can’t believe you threw a killing curse at a vampire.”

“I panicked.”

“Because your cousin was trying to eat me?”

Lucius realized he was on his knees in front of her, a position he would have thought unthinkable a month prior. His lows could only go lower. “Because if you died, I would soon follow.”

“It’s good to be needed.” She grumbled as he turned her ankle over to see more of the wound.

Lucius did not know if vampire scrapes had anything to do with vampire bites, but it seemed like after two hours something would have happened by now. He cast a healing charm and the cuts sealed, leaving thin white lines up her leg. “It will scar.”

“If you haven’t noticed by now, I have quite a few.”

“A tragedy.” Sarcasm masked the truth. It was a tragedy.

A few moments of silence passed between them and Lucius settled back into the chair across from her. “Thank you.” She said.

He looked at her critically for a moment before realizing there was no anger left, no backbiting as Narcissa liked to do. “You’re welcome,” A pause. “I am truly sorry about my cousin.”

“I know.” She said “I don’t think either of us expected that, but we were stupid not to.”

“It gave us this, at least.” He said inspecting a small business card.

“I don’t feel up to meeting any more of your extended family.” Hermione said, biting her lip “One is enough for a lifetime.”

Hermione stretched and shifted her position so her legs were thrown over the arm of the chair, her wild hair caught the firelight and they sat listening to the fire, and eventually she relaxed back into sleep. She forgave him easier than he would have forgiven himself. He found himself reaching out to play with her curls. 

He could kill for her easily, he already did. Was this also part of the mating sickness? He examined his stack of reading and pulled out  _ L’entant pour Obscurities  _ which had the most about a disease he did not want to acknowledge.

He flipped through the old French to a longer chapter on mating rituals and began to dive in, out of curiosity, of course. He wouldn’t mate with her, he would not fulfill the curse’s terms. It was a contract he could not get out of.  
  


* * *

  
An owl came for him the next day, as Hermione ate a late tea service with him. Since sunlight began to give him headaches (she called this ‘photosensitivity’ and told him it was common) he would stay up through the night and sleep through the day, joining her in the late afternoon. 

“Your wife owled.” She said, spreading raspberry jam on a perfectly baked scone (also raspberry, her favorite, the elves spent more time pleasing her than serving him) “It is sitting in your study.”

“I was wondering when she would remember I existed.” Lucius said, delicately cutting a boudin noir.

“Do you often go off with young women?”

“Why?”

“I also received a missive,” She said and bit into the scone, raspberry jam spilling down her chin. She wiped it up and ate it, leaving a red streak on her face “With a large sum of money.”

“My money.” Lucius said, wondering what Hermione thought was a large sum of money.

“Anyways, since I have received a large sum of money, I thought I would go into town and buy some clothes, so I can stop transfiguring curtains.” She continued “and you can visit your extended family, that card you showed me last night, it is in Toulouse, not far from here.”  
  
Lucius felt a pang as he realized how remiss he was towards someone who was so important to him. Narcissa's closet could easily purchase Malfoy Manor twice over, and Hermione had to turn bed linens into dresses. He swallowed this irritation.

“Is it a bribe?”

“Yes, in exchange for the money I must stop sleeping with you.” She said and Lucius choked on his food.

“Was it that explicit?”

She tossed him the scroll and a few words caught his eye. “ _P_ _ lease take this as payment for services rendered _ ” 

His irritation did not abate and Lucius looked away from the table for a moment to compose himself.

“It’s not enough, by the way.” Hermione said with a laugh “I don’t think there will ever be enough money to put up with you.”

He looked at her briefly and saw her stealing another scone from the plate, breaking it in two before beginning to coat it entirely with jam. “How much was it?”

“5,000 galleons.” She said airily.

“You’re going to go shopping for less than 5,000 galleons tonight? My, how the lower class lives.”

Hermione laughed and he couldn’t help but smile at her. It was with her that the stress of the world seemed to  _ lessen _ and it was left to just him and her.

“I am no stranger to shopping,” He replied “We’ll go into Toulouse together, and I will meet with my family, but-” It had been a week of the two of them within the same house, he was unsure of what it meant to be separated “If the illness comes, send a patronus.”

Hermione’s mirth was replaced with a somber expression at the mention of the sickness. “I understand," Her eyes went to her plate, trying to hide her discomfort from him. "Write your wife. She will be worried about you, and your  _ nightly activities _ .”

“After breakfast.” He said, wishing desperately that the blood sausage was enough to kill this everlasting hunger within him. “I need some enjoyment in my life.”

“She is your wife.” Hermione reminded him, sipping her tea, and he desperately wanted to touch her, to clean the small smudge of jam off her face, but he ignored that feeling.

“Pure blood marriages are not made on anything but money or the promise of.” Lucius replied “Druella Black promised my father some money, or some land, or probably some cursed old object, in exchange for his first born, and if you have ever met a Black, you know they can be quite persuasive.”

“An arranged marriage? For what?”

“An heir.”

She stared at the plate for a moment longer before meeting his eyes “Is Draco in a similar...way as you?”

“I have no heir.” He got up from the table, unwilling to answer her questions on Draco, a sore spot that he also unwilling to acknowledge. “This curse ends with me.”

His wife’s note to him was short. Draco was still at school and needed to leave for France, if he was done with his dalliance come home, and to not make a fool of Narcissa Black. 

When Narcissa was angry, she often used her maiden name as some kind of power over Malfoy. Afterall, the Black name carried more weight in England than Malfoy, but Lucius had little care over lineage or of England anymore.  He compared her note to him and then her note to Hermione. Irritation turned into rage as he read over the notice. “ _ A solicitor will be at the destination of this owl within one business day in order to ensure your discretion.”  _ Did Narcissa think she had any right to terrorize Hermione? He cast an incendio on both notes and stared at the spot where he had killed Benoit last night. The very thought of his life in England made him sick. He rubbed his temples trying to ease the headache. 

The books did not have a lot of the mechanics on mating itself, nor did it explain what happened if you found your mate but did not fulfill the bond. He knew things were getting worse for him, even as they remained stable for her. Sunlight, even at dusk, was an irritation now. Food that he usually enjoyed was becoming flavorless. He felt restless but could not understand why. He would have to find the sire and do away with him before these symptoms became worse.

Hermione walked past his study, he could smell her a mile away, parchment and vanilla soap. She was wearing white today, transfigured, he supposed, from one of the dust cloths that were found just about everywhere in the manor.

“I’ll be in the library if you need me.” She called as she passed.

He did need her, and it was becoming abundantly clear that as he spent more time with the mudblood, that things were becoming harder to resist. The curse was clawing him from the inside, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he was going to last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lovely interlude of domesticity between the two of them as the outside world begins to close in upon them/


	8. Chapter 8

Hermione tried her best to look smart in what she had, transfigured curtains this time, and Lucius grimaced at how poor of a host he had been to her. She was his lifeline, and could only be found in rags.

“It’s not that bad.” She commented, tugging on the forest green velvet that was now missing from his dining room windows.

It was that bad, he withdrew his wand and tried a few more charms, to at least have it fit to her figure instead of hanging off her like a sack. It now clung to her curves, and Lucius regretted transfiguring something to look so good on a woman he was supposed to hate. He looked away, trying to shake the thoughts from his head. She was a child and more importantly, he was married.

She stepped towards him. “We will have to side along, I don't know where we are going.”

“I’ll take care of you.” He assured, and then bit his tongue. That was  _ not _ supposed to sound that way.

She grabbed onto his arm. “I know, you must, you promised.”

Toulouse was spotted with lamplight and they walked down cobblestone streets with old, red bricked buildings towering high above the both of them. Winter air had driven most of the muggles from the streets, and Hermione was peering into shop windows as they passed. November always signaled the end of fall, with bitter winds, but she did not seem to mind, even as he gave her his cloak to keep warm and she waved him off as he placed it around her.

“It’s charmed.” He said quietly, walking ahead of her, internally cursing himself for kindness.

“So is mine.” She shot back, but she still drew the cloak around herself. “Is there a wizarding district? How will I buy any clothes?”

Lucius handed her a card of his own “This is the muggle card.”

She took the black card in her hand. “Wizards even have credit cards now? How times have changed.”

“No, it’s muggle money from a muggle bank.” Lucius replied stopping in front of a row of large brightly lit stores “Money does not care if you’re magic or not.”

“How disgustingly Malfoy of you.” She replied stepping inside the doorway “Where will I meet you?”

“I will find you, I won’t be long.”

She looked very much like a child, drowning in his oversized cloak, her eyes caught the streetlights. “Be safe.”

He waited for her to step inside the store before he left, withdrawing his wand and muttering “ _ point me _ ” before walking off to find his cousins.

The card only had two names on it:  _ Louis & Louis Esq. _ It seemed innocent enough, and when he arrived at the building, it was just an unadorned black door in the sea of bricked buildings with the same gold lettering as the card right above a door knocker.

He approached it with caution, waiting for some charms to wear off, or some wards to activate, but none occurred and he knocked on the door twice. A woman, who looked a bit dazed answered, dressed in a tight red silk dress, her eyes unfocused, her skin so pale it was translucent. “We have been waiting for you.”

She walked with a stumble, pulled by an invisible string down the hall, lurching forward before collapsing in a sitting room where two people sat, both blonde, a woman who was about Narcissa’s age, and a man who had to be the same age as his father.

“Cousin.” The woman said, that same arctic tone that Narcissa had, devoid of all emotion “Etienne said we would have a visitor from England.”

“We did not know you would still choose to remain...as filth.” The man replied and the woman who had collapsed on the floor began to drag herself towards him, the leather of her shoes stuttering on the floor, her breathing that labored rasp that reminded him of Hermione in Saint Mungo's.

“I do not know much about my heritage, and that is why I am here.” Lucius said cooly, ignoring the way the woman got to her knees before his cousin, her head lolling back, a smile on her face as his cousin bent down to grab the woman, cutting her open and wiping the blood from her body with his fingers and then licking them clean.

“It’s to be expected,” The woman said “The English have always been backwards.”

“A curse of being so far north.” Lucius said and the woman gestured to an empty chair “Etienne did not explain much.”

“He’s a fool.” The man said, his lips red with blood “He could not explain much if he wanted to.”

“You still have the estate outside Aignes?” The woman asked “Is there not knowledge still there or did your...is it grandfather? You humans age so quickly.”

“Arctaeus.” Lucis supplied.

“Yes, did he burn the library there? He was rather put out about what happened to his wife.” The woman continued.

“I am not sure.”

“Then he must have, or else you would not be here.” The man drawled and Lucius began to feel irritated at how dismissive they both were. Was he not family? “Get up, girl.”

“Yes, sir.” The woman immediately rose to her feet, blood still pouring from her open wound, soaking the front of her dress. “Get the books off my desk and bring them.”

“Of course sir.” She had a dreamy smile on her face as she shuffled out of the door on the other end of the room.

“What happened to his wife?”

The woman hummed, trying to decide if Lucius was worth the effort, but she seemed to have relented. “Burned by muggles, and of course, when a wife dies, your grandfather soon followed. It is the nature of our kind.”

“Burned?”

“The church, for us, it is always the church.” The woman said “You will learn soon enough, when you turn.”

There was a thud in the hallway and they all looked back to see the commotion. The woman was obviously on the edge of death, her hair now matted with her own blood as she fought to obey the command issued to her. The books were tied neatly in a pile. 

“If that stains the carpet-” The woman warned, clearly frustrated. “You are always doing this!”

“My love, what is the point of  _ having  _ the ability to control without  _ testing _ to see what control means.”

The wounded woman, a gorgeous brunette with the body of a model crawled in, stumbling over the carpet to hand the books to Lucius, and finally, she died at his feet, the red blood that had turned her dress a dark red seeping into the carpet.

“Another! The second one this month! And who will clean this?” The woman got up, irritated and stormed from the room.

“Please, Lucius, ignore her, my wife is always a bit fussy about the carpets. They are from Persia before the empire fell.” The man waved it off “I am Louis Malfoy, and if you have any questions, you can call me at the number listed or send post. Not enough people use post anymore.”

“About wives-”

“Etienne said you have a wife, but she is unclaimed.” Louis said “Is this another English tradition?”

“No.”

“Then a human one.”

“Marriage is not a human condition.” Lucius argued “I have a wife already.”

“Oh, you are _married_ , the contract that you made with some government, but that is not a wife. Which is, rather crudely, a more  _ correct _ term than what it truly is: a mate.” Louis gave him a smile that seemed almost predatory and Lucius realized that he was speaking with something more sinister than Lord Voldemort, something more eternal than him. “If you wish to die, I will assist you.”

“Cousin,” Lucius stressed their familial ties so he would be able to slip from the room of  _ Louis and Louis Esq _ alive “If I do not take my wife, what will become of us?”

“You know of the sickness, it’s why she is here in Toulouse.” Louis said “She is young, but it is better to turn them young. You can ignore the gift of your heritage, but to watch a wife die. I cannot imagine it. Humans think they know sadness, but there is a certain sadness in eternity alone knowing you are the cause, don’t you think?”

Lucius thought on this, careful of his answer. “The gift of the vampire, it does not kill, does it?”

“You cannot die, you can only be killed. After losing his wife, Arctaeus committed suicide by sunlight, he left behind some ungrateful child.” Louis said. “It’s common enough.”

The woman returned with a man who had that same glassy eyed stare of adoration that Lucius was beginning to hate. He knew it well enough, he would often use his magic to get people to agree with him, or to stop fussing over contracts and bribes.

“You’re still here?” She asked, staring pointedly at Lucius.  
  


* * *

  
Lucius walked with a small bundle of books down the empty streets of Toulouse, he could feel the draw toward Hermione now, adrenaline for having survived the meeting and fear for having learned of the true nature of their relationship. 

He turned a corner to see the shopping district, devoid of people, except for one who was weighed down with bags on either side, bushy hair and still in a cloak that dragged behind her, she paced in front of the building he had left her at. 

Could he spend eternity with Hermione? She seemed to have felt his presence because she turned, still in a transfigured velvet green dress, a smile on her face “Lucius! You’re late.”

“Did you buy the whole store?” He asked, eying her bags.

“I should have, to punish you, but I didn’t” He took the bags and she grimaced. 

“You’re covered in blood.”

“Not mine.” He soothed, and remembered that his cousin knew that Hermione was in the city. “I have a feeling we are being watched here, let’s go.”

“I didn’t see anyone.” She argued, and a cleaning spell fell over them “Did you meet with your family?”

Lucius didn’t like calling whatever he met in Louis & Lous Esq his family. They appeared to be far worse than that. Death was close in that sitting room, it clung to his clothes, but the truth was far more frightening. His grandfather had committed suicide, and if Lucius was correct, his father had too.

Why didn’t Abraxas tell him? He looked at the girl who was currently staring into a shop window trying to find the spies. Why didn’t his father tell him that the curse was not death, but the lack of?

He pulled Hermione towards him and apparated back to the French estate.

That evening, as she unboxed and handed all the clothes to the elves, only a few outfits and some shoes, mostly practical, to Lucius’ dismay. She gave him confession.

“You know,” She spoke as an elf took another long sleeved top from her to fold and put away. “The Order thought I was contagious, so after a week, they moved me to Hogwarts.” 

She pulled out a dress this time and Lucius approved of it as the elves floated it into a wardrobe that was newly cleaned. “And that was it, no more contact, no more letters. It’s like I ceased to exist. I went from being Harry Potter’s best friend to a casualty of war that was still living and breathing, experiencing the war as a bystander.” Here she paused, opening a box that contained a pair of loafers.

“Except there are no bystanders in war, and the only people who forgot exactly who I was, were my friends.” She quickly wiped the tears off her face “Death Eaters remembered me, and made every day at Hogwarts a nightmare.”

“Severus is not in control of the staff there, it’s a zoo.” He suddenly understood why Narcissa wanted Draco to leave.

“I was so sick, and it is hard to withstand  _ cruciatus _ when it is hard to breathe.”

Fury flowed through him quickly at the thought of anyone cursing her, Lucius closed his eyes to prevent himself from showing just how much her suffering affected him.

“When you came, I guess it was the devil you know.” She was handing the shoes now to the elves “Thank you, for buying all this stupid stuff for me.”

“You didn’t buy nearly enough.”

“I just miss my friends.” She said quietly “I know it’s stupid, they were awful to me.”

He didn’t know how to comfort her in a way that was acceptable to him. There were urges to be sure, to gather her into his arms, to kill anyone who upset her, to torture those who tortured her, but instead of acting on these, he did what he thought was acceptable and handed her the books from his cousins. “I know it’s not much, because we are bound, twelve times over due to the amount of oaths, promises, and vows you have made me make. I will be the...devil you know, whatever that means to you.”

Hermione’s fingers gently traced the title of the book on top, simply inscribed  _ Journal _ “You’re a ponce, and a bit deluded, but you’re a friend to me.”

He covered his mouth to hide the smile, elation replacing his uncertainty as she wiped her eyes again and sighed, trying to continue working through her purchases.

“Tell me what your family had to say.” She said, pulling a pair of blue pants out of a bag.

He explained what he had learned about his grandfather, and that, at the very least, he was mistaken about the nature of the curse, he omitted a few things, about mating, because even Lucius was not sure he wanted to repeat these things aloud.

Hermione had finished unpacking and was waiting for tea service at half past two worrying her bottom lip and her chin resting on her hand. Moonlight flooded into the master bedroom, and he decided that she looked more beautiful at night than at any time during the day.

Her voice broke his admiration “Lucius,” She ventured “Do you think that perhaps your grandfather choosing to kill himself is why you are the way you are?”

“What do you mean?”

“You said your father taught you to file-” here she shuddered “file your teeth down, but your cousins all are gladly vampires here in France. Do you think maybe your father  _ saw _ what had happened to his father? The curse of the vampire.”

  
He didn’t want to answer it, because it sounded exactly like something Abraxas would do. “Something to be sure is that the curse will not kill me, as previously thought, but I am no closer to the sire. They treated me as if I was an animal, or some annoying child.”

  
Hermione laughed “Now the shoe is on the other foot, Lucius Malfoy is the annoying _mudblood_ to vampires.”

Tea was served and he enjoyed another hour in her company, resisting the desire to touch her.


	9. Chapter 9

“Master Lucius,” Anty appeared, wringing her hands together “A visitor has come asking for Mistress Hermione, but Mistress Hermione is sleepings.”

It was half past seven in the morning, Hermione had finally dozed off around four, so he was loathe to wake her. Their sleeping hours had skewed so they could spend most of the night together, but business did not sleep and he was attending to accounts in the morning hours.

“A visitor? Here? I will receive him, Hermione is not to be disturbed.”

Hermione also often had a short temper if she was woken too early. It was not something Lucius wished to risk.

The visitor was Lucius’ solicitor, and he supposed he was now Narcissa’s solicitor. Bernard Fitzroy sat down in the leather chair in front of Lucius’ desk as if he was in his own home, pulling out a few papers and handing them to Lucius. 

Fitzroy was the solicitor of wizarding nobility, and sometimes Fitzroy confused that with being nobility himself. His business was built on discretion and results and Lucius knew that this trip to France was costing his accounts dearly. He dressed in the same robes as Lucius, and he, no doubt, had the same tailor. 

“Narcissa tells me you have taken a mistress?” He rifled through some papers, “A muggleborn teenager, seventeen, Hermione Granger. Consorting with a witch that is not of age-”

“I am of age.” A second voice, he saw Hermione standing in the door to his study, wearing a black dress and his robes. “Cast the charm and figure it out for yourself.”

Her eyes were still half lidded from sleep, giving her a kind of allure that only came from Hermione in her rawness as she entered the room. Something Narcissa, for all of her glamours, never achieved. “How can I help you?” She asked, tossing a handful of scrolls at his feet, owl post from this morning. “You seem impatient to meet me.”

“I have come to ask you to sign some paperwork for Narcissa, to prevent any more  _ dalliances _ that may put shame to the Malfoy name.” 

He handed the paperwork to the girl as she leaned back against his oak desk, her hair spilling over her shoulder in a loose braid. She flipped through it and then looked up at the solicitor. “And how long have you been having  _ dalliances  _ with Narcissa?”

“Excuse me?” He choked and Lucius slid his eyes over to the solicitor, a predatory smile playing at his lips.

She tossed the paperwork back to him. “Lucius’ robes used to smell like that perfume too, I am not an idiot. Besides, it is law that the Head of a House is allowed to  _ execute _ any man that shall lay hands on his wife. Mugworth v. Prewett, 1645”

“I am familiar with the law, girl.”

Hermione’s eyes flashed. “So, Mister Fitzroy, do you have a death wish? It is 7:30 in the morning and you would not be the first man to die in this study this week.”

“I will not be threatened by some child.”

“And yet, you’re still here, trying my patience. Would you acknowledge a threat from me?” Lucius said, and pretended to peruse the papers briefly. “I will be sending over another solicitor to your office this week, consider your business with the Malfoy family concluded.”

“Mister Malfoy, I was only serving in your best interest! Think of the scandal, with a mudblood! Will we see Malfoy line become _impure_ in my lifetime?”

Lucius watched the paperwork go up in flames on his desk and he eyed the girl with white knuckles trying her best to control herself. “If you so much as think of Hermione, I will make sure you do not think again. You have three minutes to get off my property.”

The solicitor went glassy eyed, that same glassy eyed stare that the humans had at  _ Louis & Louis _ and he suddenly got up and walked out without another word. 

“Four owls this morning alone!” She said following the solicitor out of the room and watching him walk wordlessly down the stairs “Did you imperius him?” She asked from the railing overlooking the foyer. “Lucius!”

“I did nothing of the sort, that is, of course, my powers of persuasion.” Lucius watched him open the door and walk out.

“Ah yes, the _thrall_ I read about that,” She hummed “It doesn’t work on me, though, your cousin also tried.”  
  
“That is because you are different.”  
  
She went quiet at that. They knew their bond now, but did not speak of it. Silence reigned over the house. 

“Once he returns to England, Narcissa will know, and so will the Dark Lord.” She spoke quietly, the last few words only an utterance. He noticed she was staring at his arm now “And he will come for you.”

He looked at his arm and covered the dark mark with his other hand, hiding it from her. “I haven’t forgotten.” He assured looking down over the foyer. The truth was he had done his best to try and forget, and many things had become easy to forget with Hermione.

She yawned suddenly and he looked over at her, forgetting that she had barely slept. “You said owls had bothered you?”

“I didn’t want to worry you, for the past few days that solicitor has been sending letters, cease and desists, other more  _ legal _ letters, and so I researched some law to prepare myself for his visit.” She looked up at him “But it was fun to scare him a bit.”

He reached out to touch her and then stopped abruptly. She was not his to touch! Hermione closed the gap, stepping towards him, and his hand brushed her hair before it dropped. His heart was racing frantically. “If owls are bothering you, you are welcome to sleep in the study, there are no windows.”  
  
Why had he offered such a thing? His mind was screaming, but all he could do was smell vanilla and ink, parchment and softness. Hermione.

“I don’t want to impose.” She replied, her eyes focused now on his.

“Never.”

Hermione slept in his study as he began to fill out paperwork. First, an assets freeze, secondly, a will, and third his divorce paperwork. He wanted no more solicitors to visit, and no more annoyances to come to Hermione. She was integral to figuring out the curse, and he would admit nothing more than that.

After a few hours, he moved over towards her, brushing her hair away from her face, his fingers getting caught in her curls, her skin soft beneath his touch. His mate was everything a woman should be, pretty, smart, protective,  _ warm _ . 

He stopped his fingers that were now tracing down her neck, her pulse strong beneath the pads of his fingers. The hunger welled up inside of him, something that no food could abate. Lucius walked away. He was not an animal, and only animals had mates.  
  


* * *

  
That night over dinner he received two pieces of mail, one from England and one from Toulouse. Hermione looked on curiously over her soup, but said nothing as he tossed the letter from England aside, Narcissa Malfoy’s neat handwriting glowed in the candlelight as he unfurled the scroll from his cousin.

“A party invitation, for this weekend and a sincere hope that my condition has improved.” He sneered and Hermione leaned towards him to peek at the letter.

“Not very patient, are they? They are definitely your relations.” She said sitting back in her chair. “It’s been less than three days.”

“I am sure that they hoped that watching them bleed some woman out on their carpet was enough to convince anyone.” Lucius said opening the missive from his wife.

It was blank, and Lucius knew better. It was a warning, from her to him. She knew where he was, and she was coming. He put the note into the candle and it caught fire as well. Narcissa was a Black and to be disgraced was a death sentence. 

The Black family was three sisters, Narcissa, Andromeda, and Bellatrix, and for what he knew, Andromeda disgraced the family and was struck out of the family. He wasn’t sure if she lived, but knowing Druella Black, it was unlikely. Lucius looked at Hermione. Would she be safe if Narcissa came by during the day? Hermione was smart but seemed to do terribly when it came to fighting with others if Etienne was anything to go by.

“I started the books this afternoon, the journal was written by Arctaeus, your grandfather.” Hermione said, finishing her soup and reaching for bread.

Lucius pushed around his steak, it tasted so bland but he did not want to admit what he craved was something even more raw than what he currently had and listened to her. “He mentioned that the Malfoy family migrated from Bohemia, and adopted the Malfoy name, there is another mentioned here, not in the lineage books: Artelus Tepes.”

“His portrait hangs in the library back in England.”

“He was the first migrant to France. Arctaeus took on the Malfoy name to protect his wife, but your sire probably infected a Tepes.” She said “His mate also.”

“Tepes is a strange name indeed.” Lucius mused “Does it describe where in Bohemia?”

“Your grandfather must have migrated very young, he does not know, but tells of Artelus, his grandfather.”

Lucius weighed the pros and cons of going back to England to fetch the portrait. Perhaps the rest of the books held clues, but his ancestor would know the most. He would have to return eventually, but the thought of leaving Hermione unprotected in France weighed on him. He could easily sort out the Narcissa matter and he did like the idea of showing Hermione his main estate.

“Why Malfoy? Why not Tepes?” Lucius asked, and Hermione was breaking the bread into smaller pieces and resumed reading, the book in question was propped up against a wine bottle.

“There were some mentions about the church, but nothing like the burning. Just a nuisance, like most of humanity seems to be. One entry refers to  _ cattle _ and I can only assume it means us.” Hermione looked up at him “It’s a joke, bad faith in the church, only I guess it’s a different joke now than what Artelus imagined, bad faith in vampires.”

He reached to tuck a hair behind her ear that had fallen in her face when reading and Hermione did not seem to notice him and continued,

“I think there was anti-Bohemia sentiment or something at the time in France, or war, or something. I cannot be sure until later.”

“I was thinking of returning to England.” Lucius said, going back to pushing around his now cold steak.

Hermione froze her reading and shied away from him as if he struck her. “I had been trying to forget about England, rather.”

“That makes two of us, but this is an errand, not a return.” Lucius assured “If we are to find the sire, we need to fetch Artelus’ portrait, and I do not want to leave you unguarded on the estate.”

Hermione took offense to this, and glared at him. “I can defend myself, I am not weak.”

“It’s not wizards I am worried over.” Lucius said and finally decided to swallow some steak “It is my family.”

“No matter where I am in the world, the Malfoy family is causing me problems.” Hermione sighed and ate more bread “When?”

“Next week.” He said and her eyes shuttered, turning back to her book. “I will keep my promise to you, all two hundred of them.”

“I know, Lucius.” She replied quietly. “It’s just-”

“The war.”

“The war.” She repeated.

A war he was more than happy to keep her far away from, despite knowing that even if her friends had abandoned her to her fate, she was still in the middle of it. Her heritage was as much as a burden as his.


	10. Chapter 10

It was not two days later that the war came screaming back. Hermione was shaking him awake and he realized he had blacked out from the sudden, intense, pain shooting through his body.

He was laying on the floor and Hermione was hunched over him, her hands on his shoulders and her face inches from his. “Is it-” He could smell her toothpaste, her brows knitted together in confusion “What is it?

“I have to go, I am being called.”

“How? The elves-”

Another shock of pain and Lucius gritted his teeth, his fangs dug into his bottom lip and one pain replaced another. Lucius got up quickly thumbing through his wardrobe with one hand, the other dangling limply at his side. “I must go. It’s the Dark Lord.”

Her eyes widened and she looked down at his mark. “Now? It’s three in the afternoon. The sun-”

“I cannot ignore this.” He wanted to reassure her somehow, but nothing came to mind, instead he stroked her hair, the closest to affection he would allow himself in this moment of weakness. “I will be back, do not open the door for anyone!”

He left her in his bedroom her brown eyes wide with fear, apparating on the spot, and when he re-appeared, sunlight streaming through the windows in Malfoy Manor, far away from Hermione, he felt as if all the air had been sucked out of his lungs and an axe had been driven between his eyes.

It was Rodolphus LeStrange who was in his drawing room, which he was grateful for, because Lucius felt like collapsing and he knew Rodolphus would not fault him for it. “Rodolphus.” He exhaled.

Rodolphus looked him over once “I thought for sure you had died, brother. All your owls returned unopened these past few days.”

Lucius refused owl post in case the solicitors tried to bother Hermione.

“Narcissa keeps muttering curses with your name attached and solicitors keep coming in and out of the manor.”

He had filed for divorce a few days ago, because Narcissa’s presence was a burden to Hermione.

“Severus said you kidnapped a student and the Ministry is out for blood.”

Hermione.

“The Dark Lord wants to see you  _ immediately _ .”

“And Narcissa?”

Rodolphus gestured to the manor “Somewhere with Bellatrix I am sure, plotting your murder, and then mine, fait accompli.”

Lucius left the drawing room for the study, where the Dark Lord was often found, passing the library, and slowing a step, before quickening his pace. The Dark Lord seemed like such a small trouble lately, with his cousins, his sire, and his mate, more pressing, and close by in France. However, when he entered his study and saw the Dark Lord sitting behind  _ his _ desk, he knew he had made a mistake. 

Before he had a chance to announce himself, the Dark Lord cast a cruciatus, and Lucius fell to the floor like a sack of rocks, bracing his hands. “My lord,” The title felt disgusting in his mouth. “I can explain.”

“Narcissa says you have been sleeping with a mudblood, that you have been fucking around with filth instead of completing your mission for me.” The Dark Lord lifted the cruciatus and Lucius tried to sit up, the taste of copper in his mouth reminded him only clearly of the food that he forbade himself from having. His hair curtained around his face, hiding his wounds, and the proof of his affliction from the Dark Lord.

“I have not told Naricssa of my mission my lord.”

Who was he to call the Dark Lord a lord at all? He had no title, he had no accounts, he had no lands, all he had were curses and a promise with Abraxas Malfoy that the Malfoy line would serve him. Lucius swallowed his own blood, and then, his dignity.

“One of you has lied to me.” The Dark Lord tapped his fingers impatiently on Lucius’ desk “Severus told me you captured the mudblood from his school.”

“A Gryffindor, my lord.” Lucius lied easily, anything to get out of this “Perhaps my wife, not knowing my mission, thought that I had taken her for...baser reasons, but my Lord knows better.”

“Severus neglected this piece of information,” The Dark Lord stopped drumming his fingers on the book “You have made progress?”

“No, my lord.” Lucius admitted, bracing for another round of cruciatus.

“You are still loyal, Lucius. This pleases me. I will call for you soon, there is an important task that your family is uniquely suited for.”

Most likely more money. Lucius bowed lower. “Yes, my lord.”

“Get out.”

“Yes, my lord.”

And Lucius Malfoy was kicked out of his own study into the hallway where Rodolphus was waiting for him. “France agrees with you,” Rodolphus said, gesturing towards the door “England does not. We need to talk.”

“Of course.” Lucius choked out, a curse wracking his body and causing him to double over. He had not eaten well in days, and the curse was taking more out of him than he cared to admit.

Rodolphus put his arm around him and Lucius was careful to hide his face from Rodolphus as the two of them struggled a few doors down into the library. They burst into the room and Lucius stumbled to a chaise and collapsed. 

“Speak.” Lucius said but did not face Rodolphus, eying the books on the table.

Rodolphus pulled out a bag and then withdrew a large broadsword, tossing it at Lucius feet “I found this in the vault.”

Lucius looked down at the large glittering ruby, swirling with magic in the handle. “The sword?”

“My bank records tell me she deposited it four weeks ago.” Rodolphus said sitting across from him, scratching his stubble “Which was two weeks  _ before _ this fool's errand began.”

Lucius toed the handle with his foot. “Then there was really no way to succeed.”

“I know you are not always in his favor, but this is madness.” Rodolphus huffed “Do not waste any more time on this, the sword is yours.”

Lucius contemplated telling Rodolphus about Hermione, about France, and about him, but instead kept silent, looking away from his sworn brother, and towards the stacks where he knew Artelus guarded the small section on vampire lore that the main manor possessed.

“So, a student?”

“What about?”

“Bellatrix said you filed for divorce.” 

He smiled at this. “Narcissa was sleeping with our solicitor. Enough was enough. A solicitor, really.”

Rodolphus laughed “I suppose it will not be a costly divorce, then.”

His eyes slid to his best friend, his cellmate from Azkaban. “I do have someone I would like you to meet.”

“This student?”

“I will send word for you in a few days time. France might do you some good as well.”

“Take the sword.” Rodolphus said getting up with a groan “Perhaps my dear wife will be punished for losing it, and then it can turn your fool's errand into a real errand after all.”

“You are good to me Rodolphus.”  
  
“We are in the same boat afterall, Lucius. Have been since we rowed our way to that rock in the sea.”

“You were shit at rowing.” Lucius called.

His answer was laughter.

Silence fell over the library like a blanket and Lucius waited for the aftereffects of his curse to wear off, breathing heavily and trying to ignore the piercing light that seemed to needle his brain. 

Everything was somehow  _ worse _ . He felt the buzz of the manor, foreign bodies accessing the wards, foreign magic. He had forgotten the peace that he had in France  _ was _ normal. He had to return, but he had to bring the books for her. He had wanted to show her the manor, but Lucius was rapidly beginning to comprehend that his life here in England was no life at all.

“Tuppy,” He called, covering his eyes with his hand and trying to breathe the pain out of his body “Close the windows, blinds, I want it dark.”

“Yes Master.”

Suddenly the needling sensation was gone, replaced with a dull ache that throbbed with his racing pulse. He opened his eyes to see just the orange glow of the fireplace reflecting off the sword and the wood of the furniture. He caught movement out of the corner of his eye, and saw his ancestor hiding out in a landscape. “Artelus, pick a painting, you are returning to your homeland as soon as I feel well enough to move.”

There was another pop and Tuppy had returned with a scroll, he recognized the seal, it was his own. He unfurled it, blank. He rubbed the parchment between his fingers, wondering if Narcissa was going to kill him in the library while he slept. He should find her before this got out of hand and she made a fool of herself in her petty bid for revenge. 

Narcissa grew up with the Black name doing most of the work for her, and so her subterfuge was mostly bark, and paltry at that. She was taken from the Black household and immediately ensconced in the Malfoy home, with no change in lifestyle or status. If revenge was needed, there was always money to pay for it. A nicely timed article in the Prophet, or perhaps a misplaced invitation, or an unstable glass of wine that always ended up on another witches’ robes.

Lucius grabbed the sword and stood up, wishing suddenly that he had brought his cane with him instead of just his wand. He leaned on the sword, the magic in the hilt unfamiliar and hot against his hand. The after effect of the curse burned into every sinew of every muscle, a burning soreness that increased when he moved. 

“Where is your mistress?”

“She’s been leaving, master. She gives Tuppy this note.”

“Where?”

Tuppy seemed to contemplate answering this. Would he ever find loyalty among these elves? “Answer me or I shall give you clothes.”

“Tuppy is not sure, Mistress bes following sister Mistress. Sister Mistress said something about a contingent.”

“A contingent?” Lucius stared at the elf, wishing for  _ ten _ bloody seconds that this headache would go away.

“The Contingent.” Tuppy repeated, stumbling over the second word before trying again “Sister Mistress said it was  _ the _ contingent.”

What kind of plan was Bellatrix cooking up now? Lucius placed more weight on the sword, ignoring how his muscles screamed in pain when he put more pressure on them. Bellatrix hardly had enough brain cells to put together after azkaban to plan anything, contingency or otherwise, but she obviously had something if she was talking about  _ the _ contingent.

Tuppy seemed to be struggling in front of him, balling her hands into the flour sack she wore as a dress. “Mistress asked me to pack bags for Master Draco and her and send them to the elves on the contingent, but Master Draco is still beings here.”

“On the continent?” Lucius corrected “You are sure this is what Narcissa said?”

Tuppy shrunk away from him, realizing her mistake. “Master Draco is not wantings to go, waiting for you.”

Of course, the Dark Lord didn’t give two thoughts about Lucius Malfoy unless money was involved. To be called here about a mission that was more busywork than critical out of the blue was strange on it’s own. Narcissa and Bellatrix had planned this, to lure him away from France and go after the threat to Narcissa’s status.

Hermione.

He couldn’t apparate across the channel, not in this condition, he eyed the house elf. “Tuppy, please apparate us to the estate in France.”

“It is a long way, Master.”

“It will be even longer for you, if I do not arrive in time.” He snarled, tired of the insubordination. 

The great Lucius Malfoy asking for help from a servant, how much lower was he to fall?

Tuppy’s gnarled fingers wrapped around his hand and it felt like he was being squeezed into a vaccuum, before he appeared on the lawn of the manor in France, just in time to see an explosion going off in the front parlor, the windows blowing out onto the lawn.

Sunlight blinded him and he collapsed on the lawn, retching from the pain. Hermione was as good as dead by the looks of things, he could hear the wood popping and hissing as fire consumed the front of the house.

“Master! Master is sick, master needs to go lay down!” Tuppy’s voice was frantic but he could not see her.

There was another pull of apparation and he was in the kitchens. “Master, Tuppy is not knowing the contingent house. Contingent elves will help.”

There was a chorus of greetings from Anty and the other elves who were all huddled underneath a table. The wards swayed underneath the assault from Bellatrix and Lucius swayed with it. He was on his hands and knees on the hard rock of the kitchen floors, waiting for what paltry amount of food he had for dinner to come up on the floor.

“Hermione,” He wheezed “Where?”

“Master!” Anty crawled to him, there was another explosion “Mistress is hurt, Mistress is savings the elves.”

Stupid girl! “Take me to her,  _ immediately. _ ”

“Master is hurt.” Tuppy argued “Master is more important.”

“Shut up and take me to her!” Lucius roared and he felt Tuppy’s hands come around his bicep and with another uncomfortable squeeze Lucius was transported to the master bedroom, smoke had filled the air, and he was face to face with Narcissa.

It was, of course, the wrong Mistress. The former mistress. The mistress who was burning all the clothes, all the furniture and was working on catching the bed.

Lucius quickly cast a water spell that began to rain down on the two of them. Narcissa turned towards him with her wand out, pointed towards him.

“Where’s your whore, Lucius?” Narcissa seethed, casting another curse that Lucius only dodged perhaps by luck only. His body was not going to last much longer upright. “I caught her once, but she’s disappeared. She seems very  _ at home _ here.”

There was a hiss of steam as the fire began to subside, Lucius felt his hair sticking to his face as he was drenched with his own spell. “If she’s hurt, I will not hesitate to kill you and  _ every Black _ that is on this continent and the next.”

“And what of your family?” Narcissa asked, another curse, blocked by luck or by chance, he was not sure. He was immune to them now. “When the Dark Lord came for your son, did you protect him like you would that-- that child that you’re fucking?”

“Draco is not my son.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Narcissa laughed, and approached him, lowering her wand slightly. “Of course he’s your son.” Anger turned to seduction.

It didn't work, Lucius was furious, the anxiety of not knowing where or how his Hermione was. He smiled, two fangs peeking out from his upper lip.  
  
“You tried very hard to cover up his paternity, I know the charms you do, Narcissa," His voice was a deadly whisper, Narcissa's face was a mere few inches from his, and he leaned down so that his mouth was near her ear, her pulse was louder than her breathing, temptation, "but the simple fact is that  _ I _ am a vampire, and Draco is not.”

Narcissa stopped, her eyes narrowed. “What?”

“I do hope one of your endless brothers didn’t gamble away the Black fortune.” Lucius said “Draco will need money for his mastery.”

“Bellatrix says I will make a convincing widow, Lucius.” Narcissa said quietly, leaning into him, her warmth near enough to be felt. “Ava-”

A loud bang stopped her as Hermione burst in, her wand pointed at his wife with a hoarse  _ “Expelliarmus _ .”  
  
Narcissa flew backwards away from him, hitting the corner of the four poster bed and crumpling to the floor in a heap, the water and ash, smearing across her skin as she fell, wide eyed and gasping.

He had never seen so much blood in his life. Hermione looked like she had bathed in it. Her hair was slick with it, and her skin was so pale that he was worried she might have already died. She stumbled “ _ Incarcerous _ ." The girl looked at him and smiled, her lips red, blood staining her teeth "Back so soon?”

She stumbled over her own feet, putting her hands out to brace against anything before she fell, but Lucius got to her first.

He caught her easily, his muscles ached, his fingers skidded up her sides as the blood had made everything about her hard to grasp. Suddenly the pressing need for  _sustenance_ was letting itself be known, even as the water charm died off, her blood was so fragrant, it smelled better than any food he had ever known.

“What did she curse you with?” He asked, pressing his hand against her abdomen to stem the bleeding, only for it to come back slick with her blood.

“Cutting curse, something...like Benoit.” She hissed at the contact “I don’t know how to heal it.”

He lowered his head to her shoulder, trying to ignore the temptation to drink from her, to claim her, but he was so hungry. “I can’t.” He muttered into her skin, his teeth grazed her skin and he pulled back, appalled. “I am not a monster.”

It was enough to enthrall his mate, she was shaking but she had looked at him with such lust that he was almost overwhelmed. Hermione reached up, her hands shaking as she moved her hair away from his face, exposing her neck to him. “No, but you are a vampire.”

He hated this, he hated how  _ good _ she always was to him when he deserved absolutely none of it from her. “Please.” He didn’t even know what he was asking for now. Some comfort, some way out.

“Please, Lucius.” Hermione was coughing and he could feel her warm blood seeping through his robes. He kissed the skin gently on her neck, feeling the pulse underneath his lips. Experimentally he grazed against her skin, and her hands balled into fists into his robes, bracing herself.

He bit her, a soft hiss coming from her as warm liquid filled his mouth, and for the first time in his entire life Lucius knew  _ pleasure _ . It was a type of warmth that did not come from dark magic, from fires, or from alcohol, but from  _ her _ . He pulled her closer to him, drinking eagerly, filled with a new type of desire that had been ignored for too long, and she let out a contented sigh. The hands that were balled tightly into his robes, relaxed and she went slack against him as he drank from her. 

Her heartbeat slowed to a stutter and he kissed her skin, licking the wound gently, cleaning her of any blood. Hermione laid her head on his shoulder and he held her close to him, stroking her hair gently. “I am sorry.” He didn’t know what he was apologizing for.

All the aches had gone, all the fire from the cruciatus had went out, and instead he turned to Narcissa, bound on the floor of the master bedroom.

Lucius bent down to her, fixating his eyes on his ex wife, the old magic flowed in and out of him like water. There was no effort needed. “You will be leaving now, but you will be leaving Bellatrix behind.”

“I will leave.” Narcissa agreed, struggling to get up, and Lucius unbound her.

Narcissa was harmless enough, but he knew who brought her here, and he knew who put him on this fool's errand for the sword of Gryffindor. Bellatrix. Narcissa walked down the hallway, pulled by an unseen string, her body movements jerky and unnatural as she stumbled down the stairs. 

“Hermione,” He asked quietly now that they were alone “Can you stand?”

She nodded and squirmed in his arms, tentatively pushing away from him. She stood, for a second and then promptly collapsed. “S’not okay.”

He cursed himself for stupidity, half her blood was on the carpet and the other half was in him. “Anty. Take your mistress to my rooms, ward them, do not leave her side for  _ any _ reason.”

“Master.” Anty cried “Mistress is hurt for Anty, I iron my ears.”  
  
“Do as I said!” Lucius snapped

Hermione held her hand out “Anty, s’okay, come...rest”

“Mistress Hermione,” A wail from the elf as their hands met. “You’s not well!”

With a quiet  _ pop _ the two of them left the mess of a master bedroom and Lucius stared at the space she once occupied, a small pool of blood stained the carpet.

Bellatrix was mad. He believed Rodolphus when he said it but the evidence was there, she was laughing as she caught the walls on fire, the manor’s warding was glowing bright in an effort to contain it but Bellatrix was just as powerful as the old wards, cold winter air was streaming in through broken windows and she howled with laughter as another portrait melted, the occupant fleeing in terror.

Lucius watched her from the upper floors, hidden in the shadows cast by the smoke, contemplating his options. He could kill her quickly, or use her for food. The second option seemed more pressing, and more poetic, for someone who tried to take life away from him, he would try to take life away from her, slowly.

A small donation of blood breathed  _ life _ back into him, a power he wasn’t sure that one man could have, or that Lucius could attain. Magic almost radiated off of him as he finally decided to descend the stairs into her madness.

“Lucius  _ fucking _ Malfoy.” Bellatrix tittered, the flames climbing up around her, eating up the wallpaper in the foyer. “Welcome home.”

“Dear Bella.” He kicked some wood that had fallen out of the way. “Narcissa has left, and that leaves you.”

She leveled her wand at him, bouncing it weakly up and down, seeming to contemplate what she was going to do. “You’ve never had a spine, Lucius. That’s why Narcissa couldn’t fuck you.”

“Your sister was a screamer, Bella.” Lucius purred “Do you scream?”

“As if you would ever find out, Narcissa will miss you, but I won’t.  _ Avada Kedrava _ .” The room glowed green and Bellatrix howled with laughter and then.

Lucius stuck his wand into her neck as the glow died in the room. He trailed the wood the length of her jugular, wallpaper began to fall off the walls in burning strips, littering the foyer like confetti.

“Try again.”

“Impossible.” Bellatrix breathed, madness faded from her eyes as she jabbed the wand into his stomach “ _ Avada Kedavra _ .”

Lucius smiled, tilting Bellatrix’s chin up with his wand. “Do you know what I was told recently, dear sister in law?”

“Impossible.”

“You cannot kill the dead.  _ Crucio _ .”

Bellatrix dropped to his feet, spasming under the red light of the curse as flames licked at her robes and his. “If it was Narcissa who cursed my  _ gift _ then I will come for her next, but for now, dear Bellatrix, you will be staying here, with me,  _ indefinitely. _ ”

When he laid Bellatrix’s unconscious body, still twitching from the curse down on the hard stone of the dungeons, he made an experimental incision on the exposed skin of her wrist, the blood flowed freely down her skin and he swiped some up with his fingers as he had seen his cousin do a week prior.

Unlike Hermione’s, it tasted mediocre.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Literally, who would ever think that Lucius would go along with the Dark Lord for any reason other than entrapment. He's too proud.


	11. Chapter 11

Hermione made small noises when he came to visit her, lost in piles of blankets and silk in the middle of his bed. The elves had changed her into a white night dress and he saw the washcloths and basins full of her blood.  _ Wasted _ .

Lucius divested himself of his robes, leaving him just in pants and a shirt before sitting on the bed with her. He brushed her hair away from his face and she turned to face him. “You’re back.” She said, without opening her eyes.

“You sound better.” He commented, his eyes drawn to the four vials of blood replenisher. “How are you feeling?”

“I feel like I’ve been run over twice by the Knight Bus.” Hermione caught his hand with hers, and opened her eyes “Are you okay?”

“Ridiculous girl.” Lucius purred softly, tracing her fingers with his before settling on lacing their fingers together.

“You’re covered in blood.”

“It’s yours.” He replied, turning her wrist over in his hand and feeling for her pulse. Still weak.

“The elves?” She asked “They are okay?”

“They said that you saved them.”

“They couldn’t defend themselves against Narcissa. They are bound to the house of Malfoy. It was wrong to harm them.” She laid back on the pillow and huffed.

“Narcissa cursed you?”

“She tried to kill them all when they did not recognize her as  _ Mistress Malfoy _ .” Hermione laughed. “The house wards recognized her, I didn’t let her in.”

“I know.” Lucius assured.

Hermione squeezed his hand experimentally “I am glad that you acknowledged it though.”

“Acknowledged what?”

“That you are a vampire.”

Lucius tapped on his fang with his finger, contemplating what it meant to acknowledge this curse. “I was a fool.”

“I know.” She smiled and tried to turn over to get comfortable and Anty made a noise in protest.

“I want to roll over Anty and I will!” She grumbled and Lucius helped her turn, exposing the bite mark left on her neck.

He touched it experimentally. “I hurt you, the promise we made on the lawn…”

She laughed. “Trust me when I say it did not hurt in the slightest.”

“Does it hurt now?”

“No.”

He contented himself with stroking her hair, listening to her soft breathing and the silence of the house. “Anty,” He spoke softly, so as not to disturb Hermione “Gather the elves and repair the house. I will come and repair the wards shortly.”  
  
“Mistress Hermione…” Anty wavered

“I will stay with her for now.” Lucius couldn’t believe he was arguing with an elf, no matter how much weight Hermione put on their existence. “Also, there is something I left on the lawn, please place it in the kitchens for now.”

The elf took another look at Hermione and with a sigh, popped out of the room.

“You have been here two weeks and the elves are mutinous.” Lucius sighed.

“I have that effect on people.” Hermione mumbled. “Lucius?”

“Yes?”

“Will you complete the ritual?”

“What ritual?” He hedged.

“The mating ritual.” Her hand that was tucked under her head waved at a book on his night stand:  _ L’entant pour Obscurities. _

He wanted to, his whole body cried out to be bonded with her, to taste her blood again, to lick her skin and become one with her. He swallowed that desire and looked down at his mate who was between wakefulness and dreams. “I will let you make that decision.”

She hummed quietly. “Will you stay with me awhile?”

“I promised that elf I would.”

“You know what I hate about you?” She asked and Lucius tensed.

“Many things.” He replied noncommittally.

“Being around you makes me feel as if everything is easy.” She huffed. “How can one person be that way?”

He knew the feeling “Then you can easily go to sleep and we can discuss more in the morning. I’ll reset the wards tomorrow.”

“Stay.” She commanded.

He had no intentions of disobeying a direct order, and as the daylight died out, he found himself lying next to her, and when night came, he fell asleep, her breath hot against his skin. If this was the life of an animal, he wished he had become an animal long ago.

Hermione woke up twice during the night. She had shot up like a rocket and then stumbled, fell out of the bed, tripping over her gown and the sleeping elf before vomiting on the carpet. An overdose of blood replenisher. Lucius had gotten up quickly and spelled away the mess before taking her into the bathroom, letting her get sick in the toilet, and listening to her apologies as he held her hair back away from her face.

These types of things were such a novel experience to share with someone other than Rodolphus (who often got sick after drinking too much gin) that he only laughed at her and waited for her to feel well enough to get up off the tiled floor of the bathroom.

The second time she woke quietly, her head on his chest from where they had fallen asleep after her first bout of sickness. “Lucius.” She asked quietly.

“Yes?”

“Am I a traitor?”

He yawned “To whom exactly?”

“To my friends.”

“Your friends who dumped you at Hogwarts once it was obvious you could no longer fight?”

“Don’t put it that way.” She huffed “Sleeping with Lucius Malfoy, Death Eater, pure blood bigot, abandoning Queen and country…”

“My, I never knew you were so patriotic, Hermione.” He pulled her hand to his. “If they didn’t want you in the war, then why bother with it? Let England sort out England.”

“How many muggleborns will die in the process?”

“Not many with the Dark Lord acting as he is now.” Lucius groused “Dumbledore has his little merry band of muggle lovers. You remember, the ones that tossed you, the  _ only _ muggleborn out. They can fight whatever battle it is they are fighting.”

“That had nothing to do with my heritage.” She sat up and then grabbed her head and hissed. “What is wrong with me now?”

“You’re unwell, lay down.” Lucius ordered. “I can lay the world at your feet, my dear, but not if you die from anemia first.”

Hermione glared at him and laid back down gingerly on her own pillow instead of him, he felt the loss of heat acutely.

“Did you ever kill a muggleborn?”

“As a rule, I did not like to participate on missions, raids, or anything that was too incriminating. I paid for just about everything, so that was my privilege.” Lucius paused here, and decided if he truly was going to mate with her, and spend the rest of eternity with her, he should be honest “However, I have killed, when I was younger, I believed it was right, it was what my father espoused. It was why he joined Tom Riddle in school. When I was older, I killed because I had no choice.”

“Do you believe the Dark Lord’s...philosophy?” She asked quietly.

“No.” He turned to look at the muggleborn in his bed. “Not because of you either, so please check your ego.”

She rolled her eyes and he decided that she must be feeling better.

“After a while, following him became madness. His philosophies were fleeting at best. At first, it was about preserving the old ways, and then it became about preserving  _ his ways _ . The promises he made one day would be gone the next. Fear of muggleborns came from the idea that they would overrun and steal our magic, destroy our history, but as time went on, none of that happened, but the Dark Lord continued to grow in power and feed those fears. The  _ tipping point _ that Tom Riddle predicted when I was born came and went three times. We were never overrun with muggles and muggle weapons, and there was no chaos.”

“Imagine that.”

“However,” He said seriously, “If you think I will run to Dumbledore and kiss his hem, you can think again. He’s as bad as the Dark Lord.”

Hermione hummed in agreement. “I didn’t change your mind, even a little?”

He pushed on her forehead gently, smiling as she scrunched her face. “A little.”

“Yeah,” She said, opening her eyes. “You might have changed my mind a little too.”

They sat in silence, Hermione grabbed his hand and traced his fingers with her own, and he was content to let her. He had never had this type of intimacy before. Women in his life saw Lucius Malfoy as a transaction. Sex in exchange for money, favors, or contracts. He closed his eyes and focused on her touch, the warmth of her hands, the soft buzz of her magic, the pull of her presence towards him. 

“Lucius,” She said quietly again, her fingers stopped, tracing a line on his palm. “I don’t think I would mind completing the ritual.”

“What happened to the Hermione who would rather die in Paris?”

Here she made a thoughtful noise “Since I technically have to die for the ritual, does that make me a liar?”

He didn’t like the way she talked about her own death so flippantly, even has his body urged him to complete the mating ritual now. He didn’t want to scare her, he didn’t want to harm her any more than he already had. Hermione had given up so much for him.

He turned to look at him, his hair falling in front of his eyes. “If that is your decision,” He said, trying to remove any excitement from his voice. “You know what it entails, and if you want to do it in Paris, we can.”

She smiled and continued her exploratory touches of his hands “That’s exactly what I am talking about, stop making everything so easy.”

“The world should be easy for you.” He hummed, closing his hand around hers.

He liked the way she blushed when he said pretty words, and when she caught him staring at her she hid her face in the pillows.

She slept holding his hand close to her face, sandwiched between hers, in prayer.  
  


* * *

  
  
BONUS SCENE:

When he woke, he panicked, and in a way that startled the bed’s other’s occupant into withdrawing her wand. “What is it? Are you being called?” She looked at his arm.

“I’m not breathing.” Lucius said, placing his hands on his chest.

Hermione glared at him. “Of course you’re not breathing, you haven’t been since last night. Here,” She placed his hand over his heart “Your heart stopped too.”

There was nothing. “When?”

“Before I got sick.” She grimaced at the memories “I fell asleep and noticed it, but that was to be expected. You had your first taste of human blood, it moves you from that weird half life into a vampire. It said in that book that the first taste is done when they are babies so there isn’t this-” she gestured to him vaguely “-shock.”

He turned away from her and she barked with laughter at his confusion “You skipped the child rearing section?”

“I didn’t think it was topical.” He murmured

She slid out of bed. “How do you think I knew how to take care of you? My vampire child.”

She stumbled a bit like a newborn deer, her legs wobbling and he caught her under his arms. “Slowly, slowly.” He admonished "My human child."

“You’re here, I don’t need to do anything slowly.” She huffed

“I became a vampire and your servant in one night.”  
  


* * *


	12. Chapter 12

The two of them stood outside Bellatrix’s cell two days later, Hermione had her finger on her bottom lip as she surveyed the woman who had gone from mad to feral. “Well,” She sighed “I suppose you couldn’t have found a more deserving first victim.”

“It doesn’t taste as good.” He commented.

Hermione consulted the book “It says that age, diet, and health all affect the taste.” 

“Is that why you taste better?” 

Hermione suddenly buried herself in the pages, hiding a blush. “I taste better because I am bound to you. It’s to encourage the ritual bonding. It said so on page 262.”

“Mudblood.” A voice hissed and Hermione looked up at the woman in the cell. “ _Filth_.”

Hermione shut the book “We were just discussing the merits of your blood, Mrs. LeStrange.”

“ _Whore_.” Bellatrix charged at the bars and Hermione stepped back, even knowing that there were bars separating them. “Face me, witch, so I can finish what my sister started.”

“I have faced you and lived, and I will face you again, in a few hours, with parchment and paper to call your sister back here to sign the divorce papers so we can remove her from the wards and any elves that may be in her care.” Hermione said blandly and looked up at Lucius.

A laugh from the prisoner. “I am immune to imperius.”

“I don’t use imperius, dear Bella.” Lucius purred.

Hermione cared about many things, creatures, magical or not, big and small, flowers, books, and portraits. However, she looked over Bellatrix LeStrange like she was nothing more than an inconvenience. It was uncharacteristic of a woman who laid her life down for servants on a regular basis, but Lucius felt much the same. Bellatrix had terrorized him for years, even on his wedding night, she tried to sleep with him as a revenge game on her sister.

“She tortured my friend’s parents.” She said over breakfast, which now began at 7:00pm flipping through vampire lore.

“Another one of these Dumbledore friends?”

She paused “I am not sure, to be honest.” She mixed the granola around and stared at his breakfast, a cup of pig's blood, another experiment of Hermione’s. It tasted oily to him. “Is food really as awful as the books say?”

“Food tastes like ash.” He sipped on the blood politely “This tastes like cooking oil.”

“Better or worse than Bellatrix?” She asked.

“Much worse,” But Lucius continued to sip on it.

“I ought to make my last meal something good I guess.” She hummed and Lucius could only picture her in his arms, her blood on his lips, her warmth flooding him. 

He inhaled sharply at the memory.

She looked at him, concern in her eyes. “Maybe you should visit your cousins again, I don’t think these journals are enough for anyone to live on. What if we’re going about this wrong?”

“You are the one trying to find humane ways for me to feast on humans.” Lucius waved her off. “I know what my cousins will tell me, and it involves staining carpets.”

She ate another spoonful of berries and yogurt “Three days ago you refused to do anything of the sort. You said it was disgusting.”

“Times have changed.”

“Convenient.” She said, returning to his grandfather’s journals.

He finished his breakfast with a grimace, and made a note to visit Bellatrix’s cell when Hermione was busy. When he looked up from the cup he saw her eyes on him and then she suddenly moved her chair over a small bit, rolling her sweater up to her elbow and exposing her forearm to him.

He looked at her, his eyes narrowed. “What-”  
  
“Dessert?” She asked “The journal didn’t mention the...taste of pig's blood.”

“You are sure.”

“It is ethical consumption, I am giving my consent.”

He hadn’t fed on her since the night he changed, the thought of Hermione’s blood kept him up at night. He searched her face and realized that she had a mixture of repentance and _eagerness_. Interesting.

“I can’t tell you to stop, once you start.” She said looking down at her arms “I trust you to know when.”

“It’s a mistake to trust a vampire, my gift.” He said softly “Last time you collapsed, will it be the same?”

Her eyes avoided his “I can’t do anything once you start, so I have to trust you. That is part of the venom.”

He moved his chair back from the table, trepidation mixed with desire. “At least sit on my lap so I can hold you if you collapse.”

Whatever he expected, he did not expect her to come so willingly. She sat on his lap gingerly and offered her arm to him again, the other hand curled tightly into her black dress.

“I am not-” Hermione suddenly was vibrating with anxiety and Lucius, unsure of what to do, only stroked her hair until she relaxed “I trust you, it’s just, it feels-”

“Does it hurt?”

She shook her head “I don’t want to lie to you.” A moment's silence and Lucius tensed up. Was there something wrong? She finally looked at him, her face red. “It feels good.”

Lucius couldn’t help but smile at her admission burying his hand in her hair and pulling her close to him. “Is that why you have been avoiding it when I ask?”

“It’s dumb! No one wants to be bitten by a vampire!” She protested. “I thought it was delirium, but...I can’t stop thinking of it. I don’t want you to think...I don’t know.” She huffed and tried to move away, but Lucius kept her close, snaking a hand around her waist.

“That you’re just using me?” He smiled into her hair, she smelled like lavender and parchment “Please feel free to use me, since you’ve saved my life twice over.”

She hesitated. “Not that, that any feelings might just...not be our own.”

“My gift.” He breathed into her skin, he could feel her heartbeat flutter just inches from his lips, her life underneath his fangs “You are the only one who saw me for what I was. How could I not cherish you?”

Her heartbeat sped up. He liked the way she whispered his name. “Lucius.” She grabbed his hand and her head tilted slightly to the side for better access. Permission.

He kissed her skin. “Hermione.”

There was no pleasure greater on earth than the taste of her, his mate tasted of perfection and his body flooded with that same warmth that reminded him of a summer afternoon. The hand grabbing his loosened and her body went slack, but he cradled her gently, twining his fingers with hers, his tongue lapped up the blood eagerly. 

Why had he denied _this_ for so long? Nirvana had been waiting for him for months, and he had squandered precious time by trying to follow his father’s footsteps. He kissed her skin, her warm blood wetting his lips and she moaned his name.

His cock stood to attention immediately, and he licked her skin again enjoying the way her body bowed with his touch, pliable and responsive underneath him. “Okay?” He asked hoarsely, desire was short circuiting his brain.

“Please.” She begged, and if she had told him to die in that voice, he would gladly obey.

He pressed his lips to her jugular, feeling for the pulse, deciding it was strong enough to continue just a bit longer and his fangs slid into the old wounds easily, her warmth dripping onto his tongue. Her breathing increased in pace, and her thighs squeezed together on his lap, her body arched into his touch. Could he make her orgasm from his touch alone? His hands traveled down her body, tracing the curves in her dress and he brushed the underside of her breasts with his hand before traveling southward, resting on her hip, pulling her closer to him.

Yes, he could _taste_ the desire. It sweetened the blood like sugar and suddenly she shuddered in his arms, tightening her hand in his before he withdrew, worried that he had taken too much.

“Hermione?” He asked and she looked at him, dazed and glassy.

“Can we do that again?” She asked immediately, breathless.

He tried to ignore his raging erection and licked her wound clean, to leave any blood would be wasteful of her gift to him. 

“Master Lucius,” Anty said as Hermione panted in his lap “A Master Rodolphus has arrived.”

Frustration tore through him and he tightened his hold on the girl who was currently lazing on his lap. “You need to eat again, you’ll become anemic.”

“I feel like I’ve lost all the bones in my body.” She said standing up quickly and almost falling back into the table, Lucius stood up quickly to catch her. “Please show him in Anty.”

“I haven’t been to France in a lifetime at least.” Rodolphus said entering the room “Oh! You are the student?”

“Hermione,” She said breathlessly “And you are Rodolphus.”

Rodolphus eyed Lucius with some suspicion and looked back at the girl. “You are not his usual type.”

“I assure you,” Hermione said leaning back against the table to make her way back to her chair “I am exactly his type.”

“Cheeky.” Rodolphus said sitting down across from her. “I like you already.”

Rodolphus swirled firewhiskey around his glass as Hermione picked apart a croissant and Lucius watched her to make sure she ate, her hair covered the bite marks on her neck.

“Narcissa won’t talk about what happened, and Bellatrix did not return to England.” Rodolphus said looking at Lucius.

“After they trashed half the manor, and torched the other half, I am not surprised. Narcissa always has been childish about her revenge.” Lucius replied.

“But you look no worse for wear, my dear. You must be a good duelist.” Rodolphus addressed Hermione who was busy reading a journal at the table.

“I’m pants at duelling.” Hermione replied “Lucius makes sure to remind me every day about it, however Narcissa was more concerned in killing elves than duelling with people who can defend themselves. So I did not have a good opponent.”

“She always was a bit cruel,” Rodolphus said “I am sure she is not sparing you a thought, my dear, Severus has been seen lurking around the manor, bat that he is.”

“Finally, Draco can have his father back in his life.” Lucius laughed “Severus has gotten away with it long enough.”

“Explains why he always got better marks than me in potions.” Hermione said as a house elf handed her another pot of raspberry jam. “Slytherins really value nepotism, this room is obviously not excluded from that.”

“I want to speak to you about Bellatrix,” Lucius changed the subject.

“I’d rather not.” Rodolphus sighed “You know she was cutting me in my sleep recently to see if I’d wake up from pain?” Here he showed his arm with the dark mark which was crisscrossed with raised red lines.

Hermione let out a quiet gasp “Do you want murtlap for that?”

“This is after murtlap.” He summoned the bottle wandlessly and poured himself three fingers of whiskey. “Do you drink, miss?”

Hermione held out her coffee mug “It seems like an excellent time to start.”

“Lucius?” Rodolphus asked as he poured some into her cup

“Not for me.” He could still taste Hermione in his mouth, he would not waste it on whiskey.

“I guess vampires don’t drink.” Rodolphus said, leaning back in his chair.

Hermione froze. “Excuse me?”

Rodolphus pointed at her with his glass. “You’re still bleeding down the front of your dress. There’s blood in _that_ glass. It’s dark and you’re having breakfast.” His eyes slid to Lucius “And you have fangs.”

Hermione quickly looked down to see the blood that was making it’s way down the valley of her breasts and Lucius tried to look away as she wiped it up quickly with a napkin.

Rodolphus didn’t seem shocked at the news “Bitten?”

“Hereditary.” Lucius replied.

“Cheers to that.” Rodolphus settled into his chair as Hermione continued to eat, her face beet red “Tell me about yourself, little miss.”

“Hermione.” She corrected “Hermione Granger.”  
  
“Potter’s mudblood?”

“Potter’s ex-mudblood, and no, not in that way either.”

“From what we understood about you, you are crucial to The Order.” Rodolphus said.

Lucius hated the way she curled up into herself when The Order was mentioned. “Apparently The Order has little tolerance for anyone they can’t use immediately.” He said bitterly.

“Yes, well, desperation will do that to you. They can see the tide turning against them, the Ministry is ours, the last hold out is Hogwarts, and that child army is a disgrace.”

“Are you a bigot, Rodolphus?” Hermione asked quietly.

“No. Who cares who lives or dies anymore.” He waved it off like it was a fly “My current goal is to get out of the war alive. You don’t get to have ideals when you sleep with your soon-to-be murderer every night.”

“Why do you stay?” She asked, horrified.

“I am in a difficult situation, my dear, I have two masters, the dark lord, and my wife, and they are probably fucking each other as I speak. If I leave one, the other will kill me.”

Hermione frowned. “What if you only had _one_ master?”

“Are you going to try and recruit us for The Order?”

Hermione laughed “No, if you couldn’t tell, I am not their biggest fan at the moment. Lucius?”

“I was waiting for you to finish.” He said “Which you will.”

They ate quietly, Hermione drank her coffee, and washed it down with juice. Lucius and Rodolphus conversed about the usual topics. The Ministry: fucked. The Black family: also fucked. Dumbledore’s Order: fucked (to which Hermione voiced her agreement).

“Tuppy,” Hermione asked “if you would please fetch some parchment and a quill.”

Tuppy, a house elf that looked like she would rather be put out of her misery for almost killing the master of the house nodded quickly and popped in and out of the room.

“Okay, let’s go.” She said and got up slowly, bracing herself against the table.

Lucius got up quickly to help her and she waved him off “I am just dizzy, not dying.” She straightened her posture and began to walk out of the room slowly, a bit of a wobble in her step.

He should be more mindful of how much blood he took from her, no matter how good it made either of them feel. If she was feeling ill all the time, she would grow to resent him. Eternity was a long time for someone to hate you.

The elves greeted Hermione as she walked through the kitchens and she complimented the baking and they all chorused thank yous.

Rodolphus hung back with Lucius, watching the girl who was easily side tracked into tasting some bread that was fresh out of the oven. “An interesting choice, obviously more than just a meal.”

“No,” Lucius said watching her bend down to become level with one of the kitchen elves chatting about bread. “She seems to make everything easier.”

“You deserve some ease.” Rodolphus said “Merlin, we all do after twenty years of terror, inside the bedroom and out.”

“Come on,” She sighed “I don’t really relish this, but it has to be done.”

“What is she talking about?”

The three of them stood outside of Bellatrix’s cell, Rodolphus between him and Hermione. Bellatrix glared at the three of them, a soup bowl turned over and the contents soaking the stones.

“What do you want me to do?” Lucius asked, his eyes moving from the prisoner to her husband. “She’s been here since the attack.”

“She is unharmed.” Rodolphus said quietly, contemplating.

“Hermione is a bit obsessed with ethics.” Lucius explained. “Or she would not be in such a state.”

“Whatever happens, happens after we get the bait. I am truly sorry Rodolphus, I know we just met, but I need this letter written to protect the elves.”

Bellatrix lunged at the bars and he moved to protect Hermione, but saw Rodolphus had already braced her. “I assure you that you have shown more care towards my wife, than she has shown to even me.” Rodolphus said quietly.

“You were always weak for the young ones Roddy. I promise to let you have her after I am done, you can use her blood as lube.”

 _“Silencio_.” Hermione snapped “You’re vile.” 

Hermione offered the parchment and paper within arms reach “Lucius, if you would.”

After a moment of silence, Bellatrix extended her hands to meet the parchment and quill and Lucius dictated the letter, listening to Rodolphus’ heavy breathing as his wife delicately penned his words without protest.

“I’m sorry,” She said looking up at Rodolphus.

“What will you do with her?” Rodolphus asked, his eyes moving from his wife to Lucius “Will you keep her?”

“I will let you decide.” Lucius ventured “If you decide to return to England with her, then I will need to obliviate her, obviously.”

“I would like to be the one to kill her.” Rodolphus said and for the first time he saw _fear_ flicker through Bellatrix’s eyes.

Hermione seemed to tense up at this, and Lucius pulled her to his side. “This feels wrong.” She whispered.

“My wife is a rapist, my dear.” Rodolphus approached the cell “Do you know the _wrongness_ you feel every night knowing you sleep with the woman who has made your brother flinch when people touch him?”

Even Lucius was surprised at this, for all he knew of Rodolphus and Rabastan, he knew that Rabastan was shy, but never the reason why. Sexual pleasures were a game to Bellatrix, a game that many people lost.

“He was barely a third year when my _wife_ decided he needed a sexual education lesson.” Rodolphus withdrew his wand and unlocked the cell and Hermione looked pale. “He didn’t tell me for _ten years_.”

“A child.” Hermione breathed. “How could she touch a child?”

Hermione was, for all of her caring, vindictive, and she released the silencing spell to listen to Bellatrix scream as her husband killed her.

The whole dungeon glowed green and Hermione balled her hands into fist and turned away, into his robes. He pulled her closer to him patting her hair.

There was a shuddering sigh from inside the cell and he could see Rodolphus’ shoulders shaking as his hand came to his face. Lucius knew that Rodolphus was not crying for his wife, but for his younger brother.

* * *

Hermione had fallen asleep on the couch after one too many Irish Coffees with Rodolphus. She could not handle her drink, but her mishandling was sweet, she curled into herself like a cat and dozed off.

“What do you intend to do here?” Rodolphus asked, looking first at the girl who was using a book as a pillow “Abandon the Dark Lord? Hide until it’s over?”

“There is one who cursed the Malfoy family,” He said “I don’t want anyone else to struggle as I have. If you kill the sire, the curse is lifted. There are also...some other things I must attend to in France.”

“A wedding?”

“Nonsense,” Lucius waved him off. “There are more Malfoy’s in France that have...wronged me and I intend to right them.”

“You always were one for revenge.” Rodolphus sipped his coffee and Hermione moved, the book sliding off the floor, it’s fall slowed by Rodolphus. “And the girl? Will she stomach revenge? She seems a bit green.”

“Hermione is kind until she’s not, and then she has a vindictive streak a mile wide.” Lucius commented “She is the one who proposed killing the sire. She is the one who discovered I was a vampire, and she is the one who waited while I discovered it myself.”

“And of England?”

“Isn’t the LeStrange family from Le Vescient? Is it worth staying in England?” Lucius mused. “I, for one, tire of the English attitude.”

“France agrees with you.” Rodolphus said, swirling the last of the coffee in his mug “I can see that it would agree with me too. I will send word to Rabastan in the morning, we can stay here until the manor is reopened?” 

“I have many rooms for friends, and many elves who need something to do.” He got up and Hermione suddenly stirred. “Come, my dear, you have had too much to drink.”

“I’m tired!” She whined and rolled over to face the couch.

Rodolphus laughed “I did not know her well enough earlier, she is exactly your type.”


	13. Chapter 13

Lucius had spent all week arranging today’s trip into Paris, he heard Hermione speaking with Rodolphus and Rabastan down the hall, showing them the rooms that had been opened and laughing at every poor joke that Rodolphus had.

Rodolphus adored Hermione, finally pinpointing why Lucius had been drawn to her particular style of comfort. There was no etiquette, no airs, no thousand years of pureblood politics to fall back on. Hermione was raw, she gave time as she saw fit, and gave opinions as she formed them. She cared because she wanted to, and she hated because she found injustice. 

Rabastan was somewhat of a shaking leaf of a man. He flinched at everything, and was scared of his shadow. Quiet, soft spoken, he had an unusual grace about him that reminded him of Narcissa. He waited for others to strike, and if Rabastan was disturbed too much, he would lash out like a snake.

“We are about to depart for Paris,” Hermione said coming into the study “So the house is yours, and be kind to Tuppy, she is still on edge due to what happened earlier this week. She’s wearing the pink dress.”

“Thank you,” Rabastan said quietly, “When you return we can perhaps look for moonflower?”  
  
“It would be nice to brew again.” She sighed sitting down in a chair “Instead of trying to figure out all this lore and history for Lucius.”

Lucius knew that velvet green dress well, curtains, again. “Our first stop will be to get you some clothes, since someone blessed me with getting rid of the last set you bought.”

“Speaking of,” She bit her lip and looked at Rodolphus “If Narcissa happens…”

“I will give her a tour of the places you did  _ not _ visit.” Rodolphus assured. 

“And to protect the elves.” Rabastan agreed.

“Will you eat before you leave?” Rodolphus asked as they all settled around the fire in his study. “I know-”

“I made reservations for some muggle place she requested.” Lucius interjected “I don’t starve her, Rodolphus, but she may die of your smothering.”

Rodolphus shot him a look “Hermione also showed us your wine cellar, don’t blame me if a few bottles go missing tonight.”

“You’re a drunk, Rodolphus.”

“With good taste, and better manners than you.” He shot back. “I don’t know what you see in him, my dear.”

“It’s the hair.”

Rabastan laughed, and Lucius was startled by the sound, because he had known Rabastan since he was nine and hadn’t heard him laugh in forty years.

Hermione smiled and Anty appeared with her bag. “To be fair, I have never been to Paris, which is why I wanted to die there.” She told Lucius. “I’ve been to France plenty of times with....my p-parents but they detest cities.”

Lucius noted the way she turned away from everyone in the room, that same way she shrunk away from difficult topics, like friends, Dumbledore’s group, and what had happened to Bellatrix.

“Yours will be the best death Paris has ever seen, I am sure.” Rodolphus reassured.

She quickly wiped tears away from her eyes “Yes, I know Lucius has been agonizing over it.”

“Say goodbye to your little friends, Hermione.” Lucius teased.

“I hope your death is nice.” Rabastan said and she laughed.

“Yes, I think it will be.”  
  


* * *

  
  


As November teetered on December, cold winds picked up her hair and blustered her robes around, giving her face a reddish tint that he couldn’t help but admire as she stopped at the third bookstore since they arrived. Crowded shoppers flowed around them like water as everyone prepared for Christmas, the streetlights made Queue De Mor Road in the wizarding district of Paris feel warm and intimate despite the winter chill.

“Hermione, if you can find a single book that is  _ not _ in my library, I will buy out the entire bookstore.”

“No one has kept that manor’s library for centuries, all the books are before the eighteenth century, and no journals.” She said stepping in the doorway, out of the flood of people. “This is my death day, you know.”

He unwillingly entered behind her, knowing that between here and the tailors there were at least three other stores Hermione was going to try to rush into before they closed. He settled into a chair and began to read a botanical journal when she came by and deposited a book on his lap, and then three journals, followed by another book, two more books, and he began a pile next to the chair. She popped her head out from behind a shelf “Do I have Moste Potente Potions?”

Lucius realised that  _ this _ was domesticity as he looked down at his feet. Not scandals, passive aggressive comments, and political favors. “November and October.” He replied and went back to reading.

He wondered if all marriages were like his, or if they were like this. His eyes watched Hermione through the gaps in the books as she walked through the magical creature aisles a second time. Arranged at his birth for a parcel of land in Wiltshire that no one developed or even bothered to use, Lucius had no time for dating. It was affairs, or try to coax Narcissa into looking at him twice. 

He did not do domesticity, because domesticity meant a barter. He would get this time in return for diamonds, dresses, or a blind eye to another affair Narcissa was trying to cover up. Narcissa did not like to be seen in public with him. She said it was the shame of a Black being with a Malfoy at first, and then the shame of being seen after he had caught onto her latest affair, or the shame at  _ his _ latest affair.

There was no shame when Hermione stepped out onto the streets of Paris with him, staying close to him as he navigated the crowds into the quill store, the apothecary, the second book store and finally the seamstress, two hours later. She would ask his opinion on the mundane (Lucius did not think that there was much of a difference in the potency of fresh or dried murtlap), or there were times where her confidence would falter and he could give her an approving smile and she would continue on picking whatever she was trying to pick. 

“Everything.” Lucius had told the seamstress, some woman Narcissa used by owl post. “I need a whole wardrobe, and I don’t want to be here for seven hours while it’s being sewn from fairy wings, or acromantula silk.”

Hermione was browsing some robes next to him, flipping through a lavender set and searching for a price tag, and was dismayed not to find it, only to search for the next one. He tugged her hand “What are you looking for?”

“A price.”

The seamstress, a tall and slender woman with black hair cut into a bob opened her mouth. “Money is not an object for you.” Lucius said, shooting the woman a glare.

“I wanted to spend that hush money before it’s no longer applicable.” She replied glaring at him. “What can I buy for 5,000 galleons?”

The seamstress slid her eyes over to some hats, and then back at Lucius. “A hat.”

Hermione tensed up beside him. “I don’t want any of this stuff, it’s too expensive!”

“Hermione.” Lucius hissed “One.”

“Fine. One. I will help pay.” She decided, stepping up on the stool as another woman, a blonde, began to take measurements. “Lucius. One.”

“One!” He looked at the severe woman in front of him and lowered his voice. “I want one of everything, for  _ every day _ of the week. High necked, is preferable.”

The woman looked at the pile of galleons. “I will pay half up front, and you will say nothing to her. Deliver these to the Malfoy Estate in Aignes no later than three days from now”

Her eyes lit up at the name. “Of course, Lord Malfoy.”

He looked up from filling out the account information to see Hermione staring out the shop window.

“What is it?” He asked.

“I thought I saw someone I knew.” She murmured. “Ow!”

“Stop moving.” A seamstress said, holding a measuring tape around her waist.

Lucius looked outside into the crowd, scanning for anyone who stood out to him. He was not well acquainted with all of Dumbledore’s men, but the streets were dark and the reflection of the shop inside the glass made it hard to make out faces.

After a few moments, the seamstress tied the tape around her midsection and yanked it, a beautiful navy set of dress robes appearing in their place. “Oh!” Hermione said shocked “This is the one?”

The dress underneath the robes cut a striking figure, hugging all of her curves with a slit up the side, long sleeves that were translucent with a high neck to cover her marks and scars.

“It is the one.” The seamstress said as Hermione pulled at the fabric that shimmered under her touch “Fairy dust is sewn in to give it the appearance of the night sky. It also lightens the fabric.”

“Yes?” She asked Lucius who watched her spin in place, trying to catch the robes in the mirror.

“Yes.” He murmured his approval with a smile revealing his fangs, finally, his gift was wrapped.

She kept looking out the window in muggle Paris, at first he thought it was because she was obsessed with the river, but after a while he realized she was looking for someone.

“Who was it that you think you saw?”

“I don’t know, I feel like someone saw  _ me _ . ” Hermione sighed looking back at him, “I feel nervous.”

“About tonight?”

“No, not about you. I feel like something is  _ wrong _ . I guess it’s because it’s the first I’ve been out in a wizarding society since I left.” Hermione waved it off, picking up her wine, the finest bottle the restaurant had, since it would be her last. She was eating, strangely enough, a cheeseburger and something called "frights" that the waiter looked almost shocked to serve. A boat would pass by and she would follow it with her eyes before looking shyly back at him.

“You know, even though we are bound together by some curse, or blood ritual, or whatnot, I am glad it’s you.” Hermione said, swirling a thin potato stick in red sauce “You always cared, even when you said you didn’t.”

“You cared, even when you shouldn’t.” He shot back “What else is there to do but repay your kindness?”

She smiled and ate her potato sticks leisurely in a shared silence. “How could no one see the great Lucius Malfoy, last scion to the noble pureblood house of Malfoy was suffering? It was plain.”

“Oh people saw,” He remembered Severus “But like you, I was an inconvenience.”

“Well, us inconveniences need to stick together.” She smiled and he rewarded her with one of his own. 

“Are you ready to die?” He asked quietly “I can understand-”

“Gods yes,” Hermione answered quickly and then blushed to the roots of her hair, quickly turning back towards the window “I don’t want to force it, I know the ritual…”

The ritual was the mating chapter in most of the books he had found. It had a few steps and any mistakes could lead to her death. 

“Are you done with your sticks?” He asked as she picked at her plate.

“They’re French fries!” She corrected with a laugh “Sticks! You’re uncultured.”

“I thought you would want something more than sticks and a sandwich for your last meal.” Lucius said helping her to standing, and he felt it now too, that unease.

He looked out the window near where they were sitting and there was still nothing. He narrowed his eyes and grabbed Hermione’s cloak without looking at it. “You feel it too?” She asked quietly.

“Follow me,” He whispered into her ear “Let’s be safe tonight.”

They walked back through the high end restaurant, where Hermione’s sandwich and sticks cost him seventy euro fifty, the maitre d’ leading them back towards the kitchens and towards a side door and Lucius pulled her quickly into the restrooms, withdrawing his wand.

Oh, he knew this unease well. They were definitely being followed. Hermione withdrew hers, her hand flat against his chest as he sandwiched her against a wall. She was breathing heavily and he kissed the top of her head, listening for voices outside the restroom.

Suddenly, Hermione shifted beneath him and turned her head up towards his and kissed him. There was a bang on the door and the maitre d’ who was involved earlier turned and denied that anyone matching the description had come to the restaurant. Lucius realized her first kiss with him was in the bathroom and regretted it. Her lips were soft and she tasted like red wine, she inhaled when his hands came to cup her face.

“She  _ was _ here!” A male voice yelled.

Another person checked the bathroom and Lucius angled his body. “Oh! Excuse! Non, ‘e iz not, I ‘ave checked!”

“Starting early?” Lucius breathed against her lips.

“I would very much like to.” She replied smiling against him.

He apparated her to their hotel. It’s opulence was lost in the fact that Hermione was shrugging off her outer robes, leaving her in her long sleeved gown. She was the night sky personified and she approached him, a head shorter, and tilted her head up expectantly. He captured her lips with ease, his fangs grazing over her bottom lip as she sighed, finally relaxing into him, finally surrendering herself to him as fate demanded.

Hermione’s warmth was more apparent in her passion for him, turning into fire. She was as a demanding lover as she was in other things, her fingers threaded up through his hair, pulling him closer to her and he allowed it. He would allow her anything because the next few moments would be trying for the two of them.

She broke the kiss and stared up at him, her breathing heavy, her blood creating the illusion of lipstick. “I haven’t ever-”

Her first, her only. “Use me as you see fit.”

“I want it.” She insisted as she began to undo the buttons “So many times I have wanted it.”

“Let me take care of you,” Lucius purred, undoing her dress “Let me take care of all of you.”

Hermione was perfection personified. She had two scars that crossed her body, one from her hip to her collarbone, and another, still red, that crossed her midsection. She was petite in every sense of the word, his shy goddess come down from heaven to undo him. Her hands came to her new scar in an effort to conceal it from him.

“All of this is mine.” Lucius purred, his hair dragged across her skin as he lowered his mouth to her collarbone “All of this was made for me.”

She mewled at the contact, her hands tightening against her skin before relaxing. “Lucius, more.”

“Greedy,” He nipped at her skin experimentally and she collapsed against him, panting. Perhaps being a vampire had more benefits than he thought. He loved the way she flushed when he bit her, her blood surging to meet his mouth.

“That-” She whispered, the need made her voice crack, her hands left her side and braced against him “That, again.”

She pressed herself up against him like a cat, and he felt his cock roar to life as her softness melted into him. He warned himself patience, but there was no patience to be found when her mouth sought his again.

His fangs scraped her lips, drawing blood, giving her kisses a metallic tang that made him weak with hunger. She whimpered in his mouth, and with each teasing bite, they moved closer to the bed, his clothes becoming a hindrance as Hermione became frantic for more of him, and suddenly, Hermione fell back onto the bed with a soft “oh”

Her lips were swollen and bleeding, her hair around her like a halo as the bed enveloped her in the plush coverings and Lucius knew that no matter how many women he had bedded, this was the  _ first _ time he had been with someone who desired him for  _ him _ , who was naked for Lucius and not for Malfoy.

“Lucius,” She reached out to him.

It was the first time, he would admit later, that he realized what it meant to truly behold his mate and what the word meant to vampires.

Each robe was peeled off in a hurry, and Hermione, propped up in all her nakedness watched him undress with a certain type of study that he felt was usually reserved for her books. He enjoyed the tease of unbuttoning his shirt, and then, finally, the flush on her face when he began to undo his pants, one layer, then the last, and he came to his mate as naked as his birth, his cock jutting out proudly.

Her eyes were glued to it, and then a slow smile spread across her face as the honey brown stare moved up his body in appreciation. “You are perfection.”

“For you, my gift, I will be anything.” He approached the bed and crawled on top of her, savoring the way her hands came to his chest instantly.

“You are enough.” She smiled and he kissed her again, another first.

How could he ever be enough for her? Their tongue’s met and every time he tasted her blood his body demanded more.

Hermione moaned and arched her body into his. “More.” She spoke the demands of his curse.

He kissed her jawline and finally found her pulse point near her ear. He bit her and she keened, the most alluring sound when it came from her lips, her fingers digging into his skin and then relaxed as he withdrew his fangs. He felt  _ alive _ . A type of power that he imagined the Dark Lord woke up with every morning, a heat that could be felt at every nerve ending.

“Lucius,” She panted “I can’t.”

“You can,” He purred and she whined his name again “You’re mine, you can have anything.”

“It feels-” She spread her legs for him “I need you.”

He trailed his hand down her midsection and lowered his lips to her neck, dragging the blood from her wound downward and sinking his teeth into her collarbone. He cupped her mound and was rewarded with a dewy heat from his minstrations. Vampirism had it’s perks, the way she moaned his name when his teeth broke her skin, the way he could listen to her heartbeat when he kissed her, the way the universe had given him such a gift.

He withdrew again, another marking, he would mark her as his own. He would not live without Hermione.

“More,” She whimpered, hiding her face in the duvet, afraid of what she was asking for “I need-”

He rubbed her swollen clit with two fingers, watching her whole body tense at the new sensation, her eyes meeting his. “This?”

A sigh of understanding. He would please her, he would make her addicted to his touch. “Let me take care of you, my gift.” 

A long low moan as she bucked her hips up into his hands. His cock was sandwiched between her thigh and his body, so close and yet his mind kept telling him to savor her, to mark her and please her.

“I want you. I need you.” She begged “Bite me.”

The gentle swell of her breast, her heart inches away from the skin and his teeth slid into the willing flesh like butter, and there was a gush of wetness over his fingers as she came undone for him.

He withdrew and licked the bite, the flush spreading down her chest, her eyes closed and her breathing coming in short shallow gasps as her orgrasm flooded through her body.

He settled himself finally between her legs, bringing his fingers to his lips, swirling her juices with her blood and sucking his fingers clean, honey sweet, like everything involving his mate. 

“It’s supposed to hurt.” She said, breathless.

“It won’t.” Lucius said leaning over and using his clean hand to stroke her hair away from her face.

A pause and Hermione’s eyes met his “Will you bite me again?”

He leaned down to her neck, smiling against her skin. Years of self hatred melting away. “Anything.”

He licked her skin and she moaned his name, his cock pressing against her wet channel and then, slowly, as he pushed into her, he bit into her jugular, feeling her heartrate speed up as she was consumed by pleasure. Only from him, she would know nothing about men if it didn’t come from him. She was tight and he savored every inch of her as he pushed into his mate. It throbbed around him as another orgasm washed over her and after he finally seated himself inside of her, swallowing more of her honey sweet blood he withdrew his fangs to let her breathe.

Her hands, skimmed up his arms until they cupped his face, his hair sticking to his skin as he concentrated on making this painless for her. “How is it possible?” She asked, her thumb moving over his cheekbone “That you are mine?”

He turned to kiss the palm of her hand. “Yours.” He repeated, and she smiled.

For all of the strength it took to go slow, to withdraw from her impossibly tight cunt and move in time with her gasping mewls of his name, it felt as if it was his first time having sex with anyone who adored him so completely, that even his curse looked like a gift to her. She wanted him. It bounced around his head until words had lost meaning and he felt the patience he had to go slow grow razor thin.

“My Hermione,” He gasped her name and she began to meet his thrusts.

“More.” She demanded as their hips met, his cock bottoming out inside of her. “Give yourself to me.”

“Yours.” He agreed easily now. He would give anything to be hers.

She pulled his lips to hers and the last of his control gave way and he fucked her. He fucked her so hard that he could hear their bodies meeting with a  _ snap  _ and finally, without biting, Hermione tightened around him, moaning into his mouth. Her impossibly tight cunt milking him, begging him to fill her with his seed and he tore his mouth from hers. Her name on his lips like a prayer and as he came he bit her again, marking her so no other could take his gift away, or deny that she belonged to him.

_ His _ .

“Yours.” She agreed panting, her skin pale.

He hadn’t realized he had spoken aloud. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate hate hate writing sex scenes, I feel like I never really do them justice? There's a lot of pressure!


	14. Chapter 14

She laid on his bed, blood staining the white sheets, her eyes distant and unfocused as he cut his palm open. She would have to die for the ritual to complete, for her to turn into a vampire to accompany him. 

It hurt, it  _ hurt _ that she hurt. Lucius felt more panic in these few spare seconds, naked with her in the large hotel room, than he had at any time during the war. He stroked her face, her blood still coated his fingers, giving her tiger stripes. Her breathing was ragged and she opened her mouth slightly to allow him to exchange blood with her.

“Lucius,” Her voice was distant and he realized he was shaking. “It’s okay.”

“I made a promise with you,” He said as the blood flowed down his hand and landed in droplets in her mouth “I made an oath. I will not break it.”

He expected something,  _ anything, _ to tell him that the ritual was going according to plan, but Hermione lay there, her eyes half lidded now, he could feel her magic shuddering and contracting around her in an effort to stave off death. She swallowed his blood and she brushed his thigh with her hand. “Complete the binding.”

He took the knife and cut her hand, joining it with his and sat next to her, waiting for something to glow, or some change in her to tell him she wasn’t going to just die on his bed. Hermione squeezed his hand and he littered her face with small kisses. 

“I’ll take care of you.” He promised, frantic now as he could feel her magic starting to weaken “Please.” What was he begging for?

She turned towards him, seeing through him “Lucius, it will be okay.”

All the research they had done, was it a sham? Did the books lie to them? Suddenly he thought of many things he should be doing rather than killing the only woman who seemed to see him as a human being, as a man rather than a transaction. He squeezed her hand and stroked her hair, his hands shook as he felt  _ empty _ .

She relaxed into death, and her magic dispersed.

He fucked it up, Hermione was dead.

* * *

  
Lucius spent a good twenty minutes panicking after he had killed his mate. He quickly tried to revive her through some healing charms that Severus had taught him, and then stumbled out of the bed, washing himself and deciding he could try and find out what wizarding hospitals were in France, and take her there immediately. The white tiles splashed red with a mixture of their bloods and thought perhaps it would be a good idea to clean  _ her _ too.

He could call his cousins?

No, that would be foolish. Hospital was better.

Lucius washed her blood out of his hair quickly and slipped on one of the silk robes hanging near the bathrooms, grabbing the champagne bucket, filling it with water and another white wash cloth.

Her body lay still in the bed, their blood had gone everywhere, coalescing in a small pool around her body. He sat the bucket down full of water and then paced out of the room again.

Could he get anything right in this hellish existence? He killed her! All he had to do was follow the instructions! No, hospital. Stop panicking Lucius!

He walked back in, and saw her laying on his bed and walked back into the bathroom. Hospital! She could still survive.

The mirror was empty as Lucius passed in front of it. He had to help her, he could sort out his emotions later. He entered the bedroom again and  _ evanesco _ ’d most of their blood, leaving her in a white bed, her coffin.

He crawled onto the bed, water dripping down out of his hair onto her skin and began to clean her gently, first closing the wound on her hand and removing her blood. He had left so many bites, so many marks on her, claiming her, destroying her. He was a fool to think after the life he had led in England he could find penance in France.

In preparing her for hospital he realized how stupid he was to think he could keep her. Kindness was never in his cards, and it wasn’t going to begin now that he was doomed to eternity as a monster. He had killed many, and now they had taken his beloved away in retribution. A price he was unable to afford.

He wrung out the wash cloth, the champagne bucket’s water was red. The wash cloth was red. He had no one to blame but himself. He got up, his hair stuck to his face as he dumped out the bucket and refilled it. There was so much blood.

Once she was clean he kneeled next to her corpse, and then eventually lay with her. He never had been sentimental, but he kept holding on to some hope that maybe it just took longer with her.

“Hermione,” He said quietly, to not disturb her if she was not ready to wake. “I didn’t even bother to tell you earlier. I also am glad it is you, and not another. You are kind to those who never asked, and who don’t deserve it. You are gentle, and brave.” Lucius twisted his finger into a curl. “I should have kept you from this. We should have died together from sickness, rather than having me kill you.”

He kissed her and pulled the blanket over the two of them. “I’ll join you at dawn. After all, we are bonded”

He realized, belatedly that he was crying, and he took her hands, and sandwiched them between his, bringing them to his mouth in prayer, the way she often had slept with him. Lucius didn’t know how long he stared at her, but eventually he fell asleep, and Hermione haunted him in his dreams.  
  


* * *

  
Her voice called him like a siren and he tried to reach for her but the Hermione in his dreams was always out of reach. It kept getting more urgent, and he called her name, but she didn’t seem to notice.

He felt something hit him in the mouth and he opened his eyes to see Hermione staring right back at him. She was trying to free her hands from his. “Lucius, I’m going to be sick. Let go.”

He scrambled back from her and she rolled over in bed, sliding to the floor and getting on all fours, shivering.

“Hermione?” He wondered if this was yet another dream.  
  
“Yes!” She got to her feet and collapsed and Lucius was immediately out of bed, picking her up and bringing her into the bathroom.

She laid her head against the cold tile and covered her face with her hand “I feel awful. I’m so  _ hungry _ it hurts. I feel nauseous.” 

Lucius pushed his hair back away from his face and got down beside her. He knew this feeling well. “Come here, my Hermione.”

“I don’t want to ruin your robes.” She said, breathing heavily, her hands balled into fist, and she made a keening noise.

He gathered her gently, in awe and in fear that any wrong move might break her, like a mother might to a newborn and bit his own wrist before offering it to her. 

“I can’t,” She shivered in his arms, her teeth clattering “I can’t, no.”

“It’s pureblood.” Lucius cajoled, kissing her head. “Try it, it’s not that bad, I promise.”

She made another noise, pushing back against him and then finally, shaking hands came around his wrist and his forearm. “Will it hurt?”

“I already hurt myself, you don’t need to worry.” He inhaled the scent of her hair, thanking whoever was listening that she was returned to him.

A small pink tongue darted out and tasted his blood, and her eyes went wide. She touched her mouth and felt her teeth.

“I know, try it.” He reassured.

She bit into him, gently at first, and then finally she pierced the skin on his arm, and every fear and anxiety was replaced with  _ rapture _ . He had thought sex with her was phenomenal but this was  _ lust _ in it’s raw form, every nerve ending firing off repeatedly. He couldn’t help the moan that left his lips as she fed from him.

Then it stopped, he was panting, holding her close to him. “It hurts?”

“I can assure you, it does  _ not _ hurt.”

“So it feels the same for you as it does for me?” She asked quietly, blood trailing down her chin “It’s like...sex.”

“It’s better than sex.” Lucius assured, trying to ignore his raging erection. She had just come back from the dead, she didn’t need him to fuck her.

He wiped his blood from her mouth and kissed her, the metallic tang mixing with the warmth of her body. “I was so scared,” He whispered against her lips.

She pulled away, looking him over critically. “Why?”

“I thought you had died!”

She laughed “I did die! Now I cannot die again. You and I have cheated death.”

He kissed her, angry at how lighthearted she was. “You try my patience, witch.”

“Get used to it, I’ll be around for a long time.” She swiped her finger along his forearm and licked the blood off her finger, savoring the taste.  
  


* * *

  
Hermione was weak, that much was certain, after the sun had went down she rolled over in bed and looked at him. “I want to go back to the estate.” She said.

Lucius who was sitting next to her in bed, going over some paperwork to close his accounts “Are you unwell?”

“I feel like I will always be unwell until I feed on...not a vampire.” Here she quieted “How can I do that?”

Lucius hadn’t thought of it much either. Bellatrix was his first food source, and Hermione his second. However, with Hermione and him both turned, it meant that both of their blood was almost empty of nutrition. He had a few thoughts, and none of them were particularly good thoughts.

“You could  _ ask _ our house guests for a donation.” Lucius began and Hermione gasped.

“I am not feeding on our friends!”  
  
“Oho, now they are your friends? You just met Rabastan yesterday.”

“He’s sweet, for being a bigot.” She turned her face in the pillow to hide.

“We can try pigs blood again.” He continued

“You said it tasted like oil.” She complained “How can I drink oil after I tasted you?”

“Or we could get some muggle in a thrall, or whatever you said, that Benoit fellow was.”

Hermione let out a groan of frustration, muffled by the pillow. “Is there no alternative?”

“How many more alternatives do you want?” He asked. “I have not sought out...sustenance, but I can probably find something.” Lucius wished that for all the positives that vampirism gave him, there wasn’t such a glaringly disgusting negative.

He had decided that whatever happened he would just lock some muggles up in the dungeon to have a safe food supply for Hermione in case there were problems back in England. However, even as three of his loyal Death Eaters went missing, there was no call from his master. He looked down at the mark on his arm, another mistake in a series of mistakes.

“I want to try the pig’s blood.” She decided, sitting up in the bed, the covers falling off to reveal her nudity, small perky breasts, a small bit of fat that made her soft instead of unapproachable. 

Oh how he could spend an eternity worshipping her. Lucius moved from his chair to kiss her and she responded in kind. “Let’s try something else again,” He growled and she smiled against his mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lucius panicking because of messing up an ancient blood ritual is peak Lucius Malfoy.


	15. Chapter 15

Hermione slid her robes back on, twisting her hair back and away from her face and pinning it into a messy bun. She grew frustrated with the mirror being empty and instead felt for her hair and then poked at her fangs with her index finger, testing for their sharpness, to which he laughed.

They walked through the hotel, his hand on her lower back, for stability. She walked slowly, deliberately, angrily muttering to herself when she lost her balance. “I feel like a fool,” She huffed “My body doesn’t want to cooperate and everything is  _ loud _ .”

“You’re weak, not foolish.” He reminded her as they crossed the glittering lobby of the hotel. “Be kind.”

She stopped in the lobby, and began to back track. “What is it?”

“The Order.” She hissed withdrawing her wand.

He put her hand down. “Perhaps they have not seen us yet.”

A man with sandy brown hair in a shabby brown suit that looked like it was brown from lack of washing, not intentionally, was talking to someone with red hair, and a blonde, the blonde from the restaurant. She was speaking with the hotel staff, who seemed under some curse because they chatted amiably with her.

“I thought they dumped you at Hogwarts, why are they looking for you now?” Lucius said, turning them around quickly and going back towards the hotel bar, silently glad she had pulled her hair back to be less noticeable.

“They did dump me at Hogwarts!” She insisted and stumbled, Lucius held her upright.

“Hermione!” A voice called “Hermione Granger!”

The two of them froze and turned around. She stepped in front of him, protecting him from her former life. The man in a brown suit rushed to them, catching the eyes of people as he crossed the glittering lobby, his very existence seemed to contrast so sharply with the general high society that Lucius felt revulsion that he would even  _ mention _ her name, let alone shout it. 

“Professor Lupin.” She said calmly, the tip of her wand extending from her sleeve.

People in general smelled like food, a buffet that Lucius chose not to taste from, but this man who rushed up to the two of them smelled so  _ wrong _ , it smelled like vinegar. His nose burnt. Hermione must have smelled it too because she stepped back into Lucius, coughing.

“You’re alive!” He said, his eyes flicking to Lucius.

“In a manner of speaking,” Lucius drawled and Hermione nudged him.

“What are you doing in Paris?” She asked politely.

Lupin seemed cautious of the two of them. “What are you doing with Lucius Malfoy?” He asked as the redhead and the blonde walked up to them. 

He felt Hermione’s unease, and the scent of vinegar got worse. They needed to leave. “I was unaware anyone needed permission to be  _ with _ me. Unless, of course, you are her guardian. Is he?” Lucius asked

Hermione narrowed her eyes “No.”

“Then I do not suppose any more explanations are needed. Mister Lupin, and  _ friends _ .”

The woman stepped up and reached her hand out towards him. A blonde who was probably a few years older than Hermione and reminded him of a young Narcissa, a heart shaped face, blue eyes, and modelesque beauty. “Or ‘ou could stay wizz us?”

Hermione suddenly seemed panicked next to him and he looked down at her, only to see her searching his face. “I want to go.” She said it so quickly that it came out in one word.

“Of course.” He said with a smile “Good evening.”

The two of them turned towards the apparition point and then Hermione was suddenly yanked backwards away from him. Lucius withdrew his wand only to see she was also wielding hers, pointed directly at the throat of Mister Lupin.

“ _ You _ left me at the steps of Hogwarts  _ knowing _ I was sick and  _ knowing  _ what kind of cruelty was in place at that castle for muggleborns like me. Do not pretend we are friends, Professor Lupin.” Hermione’s voice was clear and Lucius rushed towards her, as the blonde witch and red headed wizard approached to defend Lupin.

“You were dying Hermione, we couldn’t help you. You could have been contagious.” Lupin explained calmly. “I understand you are upset.”

“You couldn’t have brought me to Saint Mungo’s?” Her voice was shrill “Instead I was  _ tortured _ for weeks by myself at Hogwarts all because I  _ could _ have been contagious!” The blonde woman seemed to radiate light and Hermione pulled away from Lupin, her eyes flickering back towards Lucius and to the blonde. 

Beautiful, hypnotic, and Hermione’s concern for him but not herself. It clicked. “Your magic won’t work on us, _veela_.” He sneered.

“You must come back!” The red-head said as Hermione walked back towards Lucius. “We know you have it.”

She turned around, grasping Lucius' arm for stability and he wondered if they could escape fast enough to get away with killing all three. “I don’t have whatever you want, and if I did have it, I wouldn’t give it to you.”

“We will find you Hermione,” Lupin warned.

“Do you think I am afraid of you?” She scoffed “An army afraid of a muggleborn with a cough?”

Lupin reached out for her again, his fingers brushing against her robes. Lucius withdrew his wand and pressed it up against the man’s throat. “Touch her again and I will separate your head from your body.”

“Lucius!” Hermione snapped “We’re leaving.”

“You cannot hide. You’re one of us.” The red-head said, his wand pointed inches from Lucius.

“It’s regrettable that you think that you can even use that word in relation to her.” Lucius breathed and turned away, following a retreating Hermione through the glittering lobby.

When they reached the apparition point, she stepped close to him, her head bowed, and with a crack they returned to the estate.  
  


* * *

  
Rodolphus mused over the confrontation in the lobby and Hermione remained silent. “Do you think Severus might have told them she died to protect you?”

Hermione was biting on her lip, and Lucius looked at her seriously for a moment, her eyes flicked to the side, it was enough.

“When she was at Hogwarts, she was discarded by The Order for her illness.” Lucius replied and Rodolphus sipped his firewhiskey, contemplating this. “There’s something wrong with this Mister Lupin, he smelled off.”

“Werewolf.” Hermione finally said “Him and Bill both. Werewolves, it’s why their blood smelled awful, it’s a warning.”

“Is it possible that they knew?” Rabastan asked quietly.

“That I was a vampire?” She mused, chewing on her lip, “Nonsense, it happened last night.”

“Rab is right, my dear, they sent two werewolves and a veela to fetch you. Not aurors. Either someone knew you had some vampire flu or that Lucius’ family was one.” Rodolphus looked at her untouched tea cup of pig’s blood. “Not to taste?”

“I told you.” Lucius admonished “It tastes like oil.”

“Lack of soul, according to this book that I bought.” Hermione muttered, tossing the book in question aside. “I won’t kill someone.”

Rodolphus began to shrug off his robes. “Are they referring to the sword? They said ‘you had it’. It was a rumor that you had the sword of Gryffindor.”

“I told Lucius much the same, I don’t have the sword, I have  _ never _ seen the sword. I don’t even understand why the sword is needed.”

“You didn’t tell her.” Rodolphus said unbuttoning his cuff.

“I didn’t find time.” Lucius lied.

“You forgot.” Rabastan said.

“I forgot.” Lucius replied with the truth.

“I won’t do that either, Rodolphus.” Hermione said turning her face away towards the stack of books she had picked up in Paris. “I will drink this pig’s blood, I just need to get used to it.”

He watched Rodolphus empty his firewhiskey glass before performing a cutting spell on his wrist, blood collecting and pooling before dripping slowly over the partially melted ice left in the glass. Lucius could smell the blood, fragrant, tempting like a good meal to a starving man, and he knew Hermione smelled it too from the way she buried her face in her hands.

“You look like shit, my dear. Drink up, freely given, next time you’ll have to pay.” Rodolphus offered the glass to her and rattled the ice cube.

“We should get some muggles,” Rabastan mused “Seven? Is seven enough to start?”

“No muggles!” Hermione finally extended her hand, her fingers wrapping around the glass and he realised she was crying as she drank the blood, finishing it quickly before slamming it back down.

“Hermione, you are without a doubt, the most  _ ridiculous  _ vampire. I have ever created.” Lucius laughed, petting her hair. “You will have to harm someone to eat.”

“Better?” Rodolphus asked across from them.

She frowned looking at the bloody glass “Better.”

“If not muggle. Wizards? Witches?” Rabastan continued his earlier thought.

He watched Hermione struggle this time with the moral dilemma. “I think,” She began slowly “That would be okay. It’s not as bad right? They at least  _ know _ vampire’s exist.”

No one answered her “Seven?” Rabastan asked, eager to please.

An unusual smile came across her face. “Could you get me a few Death Eaters?”

“Seven?” Rabastan repeated.

Hermione nodded “Seven.”

“Finally,” Rabastan said, getting up “Something to  _ do _ .”

Hermione buried her face in her hands again. “Gods, doesn’t this hunger ever go away?”  
  


* * *

  
“This is the sword?” She asked as they stood in the kitchens, the sword of Gryffindor was surrounded by some vegetables and bread, pushed into the center by the elves who were all gathered on the other side of the table.

“It was in my vault.” Rodolphus explained scratching his five o’clock shadow next to her “The Dark Lord and Dumbledore’s people are both looking for it, so I guess it’s important now.”

“It can kill snakes, Harry used it to kill a basilisk.” Hermione mused between them “I am not sure. It seems ridiculous. It’s just a goblin steel sword with some fine jewels in the hilt. Is that enough for two despots to fight over.”

“It’s a symbol.” Rodolphus said “Of Dumbledore and Harry Potter.”

“People are dying, is it really a time to care about symbolism?” Hermione asked, touching the sword.

“That’s exactly the time to care about it, morale is low since Dumbledore died, the war has been dragging on for a long time.” Lucius said. “For the Dark Lord, it’s a symbol of victory, for Dumbledore’s gang, it’s a symbol of hope.”

“Why do we have it then?” Hermione looked up at Lucius, and then over to Rodolphus.

“It was in my vault.” Rodolphus repeated.

“Yes, but why is it here?”

“Lucius?”

“Rodolphus removed it from his vault.” Lucius teased.

Hermione threw her hands up and left. “Impossible, the both of you! I am going to the library.” She shouted as she walked down the hallway, half the elves leaving with her.

It left the two men in the kitchens alone with the elves. “I will be gone tomorrow night, to visit my family. After the last time, I think it is safer I go alone.” Lucius said, touching the sword and hearing the magic hum underneath his hand, licking fire against his skin.

“I will take care of her.” Rodolphus assured “Rab likes her.”

“I daresay you like her as well.” Lucius said picking it up, and feeling the weight, wielding it before handing it to an elf to put away. “In the dungeons.”

“She makes it easy to like her, of course it is easy to like someone who doesn’t treat you like dirt.” Rodolphus mused as the two of them walked back towards the drawing room. “Which is strange, considering she should hate us the most.”

They walked in silence, Lucius had decided long ago trying to justify Hermione’s endless well of kindness was a fruitless exercise.

“I have a feeling…” Here Rodolphus paused, his eyes sliding down the hall “I have a feeling that Severus is  _ involved _ in all this somehow.”

Lucius paused at the thought. Severus was no enemy, but he was no friend either. He could see Severus harming him because of Narcissa easily, and Narcissa definitely was an enemy, his assets were frozen in England, and soon, a healer would be dropping by to legally declare him dead which would successfully keep the Malfoy fortunes out of her hands.

“He’s the only link between you and Dumbledore’s people.” Rodolphus said “I will keep her safe brother, and hopefully we can encourage her to eat. I have a feeling you won’t need the same encouragement.”

“I have a feeling that I won’t have a choice tomorrow.” Lucius walked into the library to retrieve Hermione and found her flipping through potion journals in an effort to find blood replacement.

“ _You_ asked me about the sword.” Hermione accused, not looking up from _Moste Potente Potions_ _November_ “Is this some task for the Dark Lord?”

“It was.” Rodolphus said sitting down across from her, enjoying the warmth of the fire as the December air started to permeate the manor “Now it is not.”

“Are you branded as he is, Rodolphus?” Hermione looked up at him. “Will he call you?”

Rodolphus showed his other arm to her and she studied the mark for a moment. He had always kept his hidden from her, a shame that he had bothered to serve anyone other than himself. 

“It hurts when he calls.” She said matter of factly. “So, why did you join?”

“I want to tell you it was for power, and muggle hating, or something similar.” Rodolphus said. “The LeStrange’s after all, are not a powerful family, we are bankers and antiques dealers of first order here in France.” Hermione closed her potion journal to listen “The Blacks were something our entire family was not after we immigrated: powerful and well respected. I am sure we would have all slit our throats if Druella Black wished it.”

Rodolphus rolled his sleeve back down to hide his mark. “When Druella and Cygnus Black started following some up and comer, LeStrange’s fell into line, as did Malfoy’s. It wasn’t like this at first, but every step is small, and it seems logical.”

“When did the steps turn to murder?”

“I don’t know,” Rodolphus huffed, realizing he was in a quagmire “At first it was a few things here and there, political enemies, favors, inconveniences, and then all of a sudden, people were out to murder you. Dumbledore’s people had some weird club name at the time. The Order of the Phoenix. At first, it is small things, and easy things, for everyone. Justifiable murders.  _ You _ have people you are told are enemies without a shred of goodness in them, and it’s easy to  _ Avada _ them and go on your way.”

“That’s not true.” Hermione said with a huff. “We aren’t going around killing muggles left and right like your people.”

“Would you have killed Lucius? Would you have killed me? Not now of course, but three months ago? A year?”

“No, I would have you arrested.” She argued.

“And killed by the Ministry instead of by your hand. Hermione, don’t get upset with me.”

“You seem to make it sound like it’s inevitable!” She said leaning forward “There’s no justifiable way to kill someone.”

Rodolphus seemed to soften his tone to soothe her and Lucius watched his mate squirm uncomfortable, now a moral quagmire turned back on her. “How many murders lay at the Dumbledore Club’s feet? I can assure you it is not zero.”

“No innocents, to be sure.” Hermione shot back.

“Hermione,” Lucius' voice was cautious “There are no innocents in war. Things that The Order did in the first war would shock even some Death Eaters today.”

Hermione stared down at her journal. “They may have been cruel to me, but their mission was right. To protect those who cannot protect themselves.”  
  
“My dear,” Rodolphus ventured “Is that _your_ mission?”

Hermione went still. “Of course!”

Lucius sighed, Rodolphus was always like this. He was shit at dealing with people, and loved backing them into a corner.

“Is that The Order’s mission?” Rodolphus continued.

Hermione got up to leave in a flurry of navy blue robes and Lucius shot Rodolphus a glare, only to see that instead of gloating the other man looked upset. “Hermione,” Rodolphus called, getting up quickly. “Wait.”

Lucius watched the two with interest. Rodolphus generally had the same type of sociopathic tendencies as Bellatrix, suffering in general was a joke to him, and it made him a clever assassin, and an even better servant to the Dark Lord. However, with Hermione he seemed to be attuned to her likes and dislikes, keeping her interests at the forefront.

“They are my friends!” Hermione shouted from the doorway of the library “They are not  _ bad people _ .”

“And I am?” He asked.

“No! I don’t want to pick sides on this. I’m going...I don’t know where,  _ elsewhere _ .” She huffed and Lucius watched her step out the door, leaving a helpless Rodolphus in the doorway for a beat and then he too, followed Hermione down the halls of the estate.

“Hermione! I told you not to get upset with me!”

“Oh, and you thought I would listen to you?” He could hear her derisive laughter as she continued to walk down the hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Personally, something that bugs me in other fics about both Hermione and Lucius is that they are often portrayed as infalliable. Lucius with all his money and power of the Malfoy family, and Hermione with her brains and morals that will try to turn the other. There is no give or take in these fics, only saving or corruption.
> 
> I personally like to watch the struggle as there are realizations from both sides.


	16. Chapter 16

Rodolphus shook him awake at around two in the afternoon the following day, Hermione curled up underneath him, buried underneath the covers. For some reason she had decided to stay in the guest bedroom instead of moving him into the master bedroom that was double the size. 

Years of the war had made it instinctual, he wielded his wand and looked up at his friend “Visitors.”

Hermione made a small noise and hid further under the blankets as Lucius slipped out of bed. “Who?”

“Two people you’d rather not.”

“Hermione,” Lucius ventured “They’re your guests.”

Two eyes peeked out from underneath the duvet “Now?”

“Now.” Rodolphus confirmed.

Hermione slid out of bed with a huff and rubbed her eyes “Let’s go.”

Severus Snape, and Narcissa Malfoy sat across from a predatory looking Rabastan who was tapping his wand on his thigh to a song no one could hear. The curtains were drawn and the candles were lit, sunlight reflecting off the wood in thin lines on the floor.

Lucius took his seat first, followed by Hermione, who sat the couch across from Severus and Narcissa, sandwiched between the LeStrange brothers. Rabastan leaned over and whispered something in her ear making Hermione look at him strangely.

“Miss Granger,” Severus drawled. “What interesting friends you have acquired.”

Her eyes flitted from Rodolphus to Severus, to the way Severus’ hand brushed against Narcissa’s. “Headmaster.”

“Narcissa,” Lucius said, wearily “Sign the papers.”

Narcissa looked a bit wary of Lucius, her eyes moving back to Hermione “So this is what you’ve settled on?”

“I’ve recovered, thank you.” Hermione replied bitterly, touching her abdomen gingerly where the scar was still red and angry. 

Severus raised his eyebrow at this and his eyes went to Lucius immediately. Obviously Narcissa had not told him what exactly had occurred in the house a week ago, or his mind wouldn’t have jumped so quickly to pregnancy.

“Is that what this is about?” Severus asked “A potion-”

“What are you implying?” Rodolphus asked suddenly.  
  
“Yes, enlighten us, Severus, what _are_ you implying?” Lucius enjoyed this interplay. Rodolphus had become ridiculously overprotective of the girl over the past few days due to Rabastan’s apparent like for the girl.

“The Malfoy’s could never survive with bastard children.” Severus drawled, “Here.” He slid a vial of dark green potion across the table to Hermione whose eyes moved to Lucius in confusion.

“Do you think  _ I _ am the bastard child?” She said, turning her attention to the two across from her.

Rodolphus laughed and Hermione nudged him in irritation.

“Explain to your student, Severus, exactly what you are implying.” Lucius urged, trying to hide the smile on his face. Hermione would never stand it if he was outright about it.

“Miss Granger, I will be blunt, to save Narcissa the trouble, you are pregnant?” Severus asked.

There was a silence for a moment, as Hermione tried to process the insult, her eyes moving from Severus, to the bottle on the table.

Rodolphus, sensing her unease, smashed the bottle on the table, the potion ingredients eating through the wood. “Not everyone runs around creating little bastards, Severus. Don’t assume others sin as you do.”

Narcissa made a hiss of frustration “How dare you imply-”

“We are not here for a social visit, Narcissa.” Lucius cut her off with a wave “Sign the papers so you can be removed from the wards, we are doing these formalities on Hermione’s behest,  _ not _ on mine.”

“Lucius,” It was plaintive, it was Narcissa at her finest. “If it’s just the one girl, I do not have...issues with your extramarital activities. You know I never have.”

Rabastan spoke “Sign it, you’re making Hermione uncomfortable.”

Hermione didn’t  _ look _ outwardly uncomfortable, and Lucius studied her a moment to see her hands balled into fists in her robes, her back was ramrod straight, a contrast to Rabastan who was leaned back against the couch, his wand still tapping against his thigh, not to song, but in irritation.

“Oh, well if Miss Granger is uncomfortable-” Severus drawled.

“This isn’t about  _ extramarital activities _ , this is about creature welfare.” Hermione said finally, and Lucius wondered if she was jealous? Hermione was bound to him by blood, Narcissa was bound by a piece of paper.

“If it’s about the elves,” Narcissa demurred, a small smile playing at her lips which she tried to hide. “I’ll give you an oath not to hurt them, a divorce is a little much for  _ animals _ .”

“Narcissa,” Lucius purred to which his wife seemed to respond immediately, turning towards him with a coy smile and eyes alight. “If you will not sign your name, I am sure we can work something else out.”

“Of course, my love.” Narcissa replied, her fingers coming to her lips, her eyes downward.

To this Severus seemed to mimic Hermione, his eyes shuttering and turning back to the contract on the table. So they were involved after all. He swallowed the disgust at the truth of Severus’  _ godfather _ status.

Hermione was visibly upset, she was staring at Rabastan’s wand, her own in her hand. Rodolphus seemed to have noticed too because he was glaring at Lucius. 

“They’re not animals.” Hermione said quietly, her voice barely a murmur.

Hermione’s eyes met Narcissa’s and he  _ felt _ her magic in the air, the heat before a summer storm, the air seemed to still and then Narcissa’s eyes went glassy.

“Sign the papers,  _ now _ .” Hermione hissed, her eyes moved to Severus who seemed to have felt the change in the air and moved to draw his wand “You will be still.”

Narcissa picked up the quill and began to write her name in a neat cursive, her hair shadowing her face as she signed the divorce papers.

Severus’ eyes snapped to her, shocked. “A vampire.”

“Quite.” Lucius said, pleased when Narcissa sat back, enthralled.

“A contract under a curse will not hold up.” Severus seethed, stuck by some unseen force.

“Narcissa was not under a curse, she did it to please Hermione.” Rodolphus replied smoothly, relaxed now that the paperwork was over and leaning back, draping his arms on the back of the couch with his brother.

“That is the curse of the vampire.” Severus said and his hand twitched “It is still a curse.”

“A shame you won’t be able to remember it.” Lucius said, moving his hand towards his wand. 

Hermione got up quickly and rushed from the room. Rabastan seemed to anticipate it because he was hot on her heels, and Lucius followed, leaving Rodolphus with Narcissa and Severus.

She was in the kitchens, bracing herself against the large table in the middle, her head bowed. The elves were quickly lighting candles to welcome her arrival.

“I didn’t curse her.” Hermione said quietly and Rabastan was standing awkwardly beside her. “I just got angry!”

“It wasn’t a curse, it was the  _ thrall _ .” Lucius said from the doorway.

“I don’t want to  _ coerce _ people into being good.” Hermione said with a huff, turning to him and quickly wiping her eyes “I’m not like that, I am not  _ bad _ .”

He placed his hand on her lower back, he could feel her shivering. Hermione had come to terms that  _ he _ was a vampire, but for herself, at every turn she had backed herself into a morality corner. He knew that the door behind them that led down into the basement was yet another ethical dilemma they would have to deal with shortly.

He had waffled on whether he would still like to kill the Malfoy sire. Vampirism had its downsides, but it had brought him the girl. On the other hand, it made Hermione deeply uncomfortable, something he could not abide by. How many more of these dilemmas would she be able to sort out? Killing was not in her nature.

He kissed the top of her head. “Is it wrong to be a vampire?” 

She looked up at him, shocked “No.”

“Then why do you find everything you do, as a vampire, to be wrong?”

Hermione looked away from him. “I don’t want to hurt others, I don’t want to do  _ evil _ . Vampires aren’t evil.”

“You didn’t ask Narcissa to kill herself,” Rabastan said, walking the length of the kitchen in an effort to calm himself. “You asked her to sign a document.  _ You _ have the power but  _ you _ do not abuse it, Hermione.”

“I suppose you’re right, Rab.” Hermione said finally, sighing “It doesn’t feel right.”

“It’s new.” Lucius inhaled her scent and rubbed her back reassuringly.

Rabastan came back with a slice of bread and a goblet full of blood, his own, setting it on the table before her. “Freely given.” He mimicked his older brother in this regard.

Lucius suddenly made the realization that these men were not here for him, but for her. They all were. Did she know?

As Hermione began to protest at Rabastan’s gift, he realized she didn’t. Hermione wasn’t the type of person to realize her power, or wield it. 

She sipped it cautiously, wincing from not the taste, but the fact that she liked it so much. No, Lucius decided, this could not continue. He would have to kill the sire.

Rodolphus came in later, as Hermione was chatting with the elves. “What do you want to do with them?” He asked Lucius as Rabastan continued to stab at a salad he had made for a late lunch.

Hermione froze, her back tensed at the question and Lucius looked away from her “Come, let’s show them their way back to England.”

“Lucius,” She said standing up “Be kind.”

“I will show them the same kindness they showed you.”  
  


* * *

  
Severus, still bound by Hermione’s instruction, sat on the couch, and Narcissa roamed the sitting room, waiting for the curse to be undone, inspecting trinkets for value, shrinking some ugly vases and trying to pocket them away.

Lucius smiled in return sitting across from the two of them, and Severus’ eyes were immediately drawn to his mouth. “You turned her? A child?”

“You knew.” Lucius said “Of course you knew of my status, and of hers. You sent dogs after us.”

“It was not hard to discover, the Malfoy’s are well known on the continent.” Severus said as Narcissa sat down next to him, an unconscious protection of a predatory Rodolphus. “You had alway been so _tame_.”  
  
“You’re an animal.” Narcissa spat “Is that why you’re fucking one?”

“Better than fucking a dead fish.” Rodolphus demurred sitting down beside Lucius “Black sisters are all the same.”

Narcissa choked on the crassness of the accusation and flushed red. “Excuse me?”

“Does our Lord know that you are all here in generous service to a child?” Severus asked, finally beginning to move his hands as Hermione’s magic wore off.

“Does our Lord know that you are giving information to The Order?” Lucius asked.

“I am not.” Severus replied, automatically.

“Then Narcissa is a spy?” Rodolphus supplied easily “The only other person to know Lucius was here was Bellatrix and myself, and yet Order dogs are sniffing around so eagerly.”

“Then you are the spy.” Severus snapped, clearly irritated, his arm twitched, going towards his wand in his pocket.

Rodolphus was, for all of his coddling of Hermione, a dangerous man. He swiftly got up to a paralyzed Severus, and straddled the man, scaring Narcissa away to a corner of the room with a shriek and pointing his wand at his throat, eye to eye, and nose to nose.

“ _ Legillimens _ .” 

Severus, trapped by Hermione’s magic, forced by Rodolphus’ hand was unable to look away at the assault on his mind, his fingers twitching

“Stop it!” Narcissa screamed and rushed to Rodolphus “Stop it at once!”

Lucius flicked his wand and Narcissa was thrown backwards away with a crash against the wall, a scream and then the room was silent.

“Ah, Severus, you are not fast enough for me after all.” Rodolphus said, sitting back “France is hard to forget, and my little love Hermione, even more.  _ Obliviate _ .”

A blue light glowed and faded as Rodolphus moved from Severus, like a cat and crouched down to an unconscious Narcissa, tapping her gently on the face. Lucius got up to join him, cleaning up a vase, and a few books, reshelving them by hand as his ex-wife woke up and immediately struggled before the obliviate was cast again.

The house was silent, save for the padding of Hermione’s feet. “I heard a- oh!”

The two men looked up from Narcissa, her memories floating in the air above Rodolphus’ head and below Lucius’ torso.

“Hermione,” Rabastan said behind her “I found a book on Elvish.”

Hermione looked from Severus, back to them, and turned to Rabastan “Let’s go to the library. We’ll talk about  _ this _ later.”

The elves and Rabastan followed her, a trail of servants that grew increasingly longer.


	17. Chapter 17

“Even if he doesn’t remember,” Hermione said “They already know.”

Rodolphus, Rabastan, and she were sitting by the fire, she was flipping boredly through another family journal that she had already read once.

“We’re sitting ducks here, the only thing we have keeping us safe is wardings and Severus’ secrets. If he goes back to England missing his memories, whatever they want here, they will know we have it.” Rodolphus mused.

“They want the sword, obviously.” Hermione said irritatedly, “Or me.”

“Well they can’t have either,” Lucius said finishing another letter to his solicitor, finishing the transfer of assets to France “If the sword shows up with The Order, our esteemed Lord will suddenly remember Rodolphus exists, and if you show up at the Order, I will make sure The Order ceases to exist.”

“Why the sword?” Rabastan asked, sitting on the floor, his back to the fire.

“A symbol, unless you know more?” Rodolphus turned to Hermione.

“No, it killed a snake, a basilisk, and it is supposed to come to Gryffindors in great need. In Hogwarts a history, it said it was forged for Godric during one of the Goblin wars, as a gift for his allyship to one goblin clan or the other.”

“The sword must hold some other importance then, if they are keen on tracking it down, or perhaps they have had a change of heart about you, my dear.” Rodolphus decided.

She was quiet for a moment, her head bowed, obviously uncomfortable with the topic at hand. As was he. Rodolphus was right, if he left them tonight, anything could happen to Hermione. The wards at the estate were old and had left untended for hundreds of years, had degraded.

Would she be able to handle  _ Louis and Louis Esq _ ? Lucius himself could barely stomach it when he was there last.

“I’ll go.” Hermione said, and he looked up to see her staring at him “I know you were thinking about it.”

“It’s not exactly  _ ethical _ .” Lucius stressed the last word.

“None of your family, here or in England seem hung up on ethics. My choices are slim, wait for The Order to retrieve me, or put up with your cousins.” Hermione said “Your cousins, while trying to kill me, at least were not my friends at one point.”

“If Hermione’s going, then I’m going.” Rabastan said.

“It’s not a potluck,” Lucius drawled, annoyed “I am not bringing food for the party.”

“No, but if they are marked, then it should be okay, right?” She said and flipped through a journal a few pages. “That way they are not everyone’s food, but our food.”

“Like Benoit?” Lucius asked

Hermione tapped her finger on the chapter title, looking up at Lucius. “Yes, but of course we would ask for consent, each time it is four to six hours.”

“You make everything so clinical, my gift.” Lucius drawled as she held up the book for him to see “Taking people’s free will is more than a chapter in a book.”

“I’m not forcing anyone.” Hermione sounded put out “If we want to all go visit your family, then we all need to be protected.”

“What is it?” Rodolphus tried to peek at the pages but Lucius took the book from her.

Hermione had a strange moral code, when in the experimentation phase, all bets were off, it was purely research. However, after experimentation, she would cast a judgement. Lucius sighed and handed the book over to Rodolphus.

“It’s a mark of protection.” Hermione said, now pleading her case.

“For servants.” Rodolphus said flatly, peering over the top at Hermione who seemed put out by the particulars of this binding. “Four hours?”

“Four to six.” Hermione corrected.

Rodolphus looked at Rabastan for a moment, and some form of silent communication occurred before he handed the book back to Hermione. “An oath.”

Hermione withdrew her wand.

“A deeper one than that.”

Lucius looked at the dagger on his desk. “If you want that, I will take the oath.”

“No,” Rabastan protested “If I am going to be some kind of puppet, I will be her puppet.”

Rodolphus held out his pinky and Hermione’s eyes lit up. Lucius recognized this oath from before, dark magic.

“I, Hermione Granger, promise to protect and respect both Rodolphus and Rabastan LeStrange while in my care.”

“And not abuse them.”

“And not abuse them.”

“And I think Rodolphus is devilishly handsome.”

Hermione twined her pinky with his. “Not devilishly, no.”

Lucius felt a stab of jealousy, but even as she sealed the oath, her eyes traveled to him, mischief dancing in her eyes.

A few moments later, the morality of enslaving two people, even temporarily set in, as Hermione kneeled on the floor with Rabastan, eager to be the first. “I don’t know.” She wavered, her deep blue robes spread out around her, the fire made her hair glow. Lucius could see one of her fangs digging into her bottom lip.

Rabastan had rolled his sleeve up on his unmarked arm, holding it out to Hermione as Rodolphus sat beside him, their other hands twined.

“I will stop you if anything happens, even if he cannot.” Rodolphus assured.

Hermione looked up to Lucius who was beside her. “We have an hour before we must leave, make a choice.”

She was suddenly unsure and a tentative hand reached out and grabbed his before her other hand twined with Rabastan’s. “I don’t know how this will feel for you,” She said honestly “But I promise you, it won’t hurt.”

Lucius had drank a few times before, but other than Hermione, he had bitten no one, afraid of many things, turning them into a vampire, getting smacked by an unwilling victim. Instead he took incisions and drained them into glasses, goblets and pitchers. The low-level Death Eaters in his basement could attest to the fact that Lucius preferred to savor, not to rip into, victims.

She squeezed his hand and brought Rabastan’s white forearm to her mouth, exhaling and then biting gently before finally committing to it and breaking the skin. Rabastan’s eyes went unfocused and his head lulled back as Hermione drank from him, blood dripping from the wound and circling his forearm, dripping on the carpet. At first Hermione’s hand was tight in his and it felt like eternity before her grip relaxed, pulling the arm away from her, blood dripping down her chin and she looked frightened.

Rabastan’s eyes focused on her as if she was the sun, the moon, and the stars. A worship he had seen before, for the Dark Lord. Lucius knelt beside her and wiped the blood off her face with his fingers, smearing it slightly and checking to see if she was okay.

“Okay?” Lucius asked and he could feel her magic, agitated and powerful now that she had stopped denying herself the food that she so desperately needed.

Hermione wiped her eyes, smearing more blood and nodded “Rabastan is okay?”

Rodolphus was fumbling around his robes for blood replenisher and Rabastan was spending a few moments dumbstruck by the vampress that bit him.

“Instructions.” Rodolphus ordered as he finally withdrew a vial of blood replenisher.

“Oh! I’m so sorry,” Hermione was shaking and drew into Lucius for support “I instruct you to act as you always have, and you have your own will...no, that doesn’t sound right. Your will is your own”

Rabastan spurred to life, the spell broken and looked down at his arm, the bite marks had sealed, leaving two raised punctures on his spidery blue veins. “That was... _ joyful _ .” He said in awe.

Lucius kissed the top of her head. “Rodolphus won’t mind if I do him, my gift. It’s your choice.”

She looked up at Rodolphus who was holding his brother. “I made a promise to protect both of them, I won’t go back on my word.”

Rodolphus looked up at Lucius briefly, asking if it was truly alright. Lucius nodded briefly. Even if she had promised them both, her welfare was promised to him. Hermione offered her hand to Rodolphus, shaking still.

Lucius watched Rabastan twine his fingers in with his brother, looking at him and leaning close whispering in his ear. Rodolphus put his hand in Hermione’s “It takes a lot to get you to actually eat, my dear.”

“I’m not an anorexic vampire,” Hermione shot back, a nervous laugh to hide her feelings “I am an ethical one.”

Hermione looked back at Lucius and he offered his hand to her, lacing their fingers together and kissing the back of her palm. His mate was not meant for this life, and he would have to cure her before she starved herself. Every meal could not be like this one.

Hermione leaned down cautiously, touching her lips to the veins on Rodolphus’ wrist, and then moving higher, where angry red marks criss crossed his arms from Bellatrix’s attempts on his life.

Her eyes widened and she looked up at him “These are you.”

Rodolphus tried to pull away from her but she held his hand, and Lucius wasn’t sure what she meant by this.

“Not now.” He warned, and for the first time Lucius swore he was angry with her.

“Never again.” She demanded.

Rodolphus moved closer to Hermione “Don’t pretend to order me around, girl.”

“I don’t need to pretend, Rodolphus.” Hermione’s voice took on a dangerous tone, the same she had used with Severus and knew that if it went further, she would regret it.

“My dear,” Lucius warned, pulling her back towards him and away from his best friend “Don’t do this.”

Hermione whipped to face him “Make him promise  _ you  _ then.”

“What?” Lucius was shocked “What about?”

“No more of this,  _ never _ more than this.” She turned Rodolphus’ arm over

“Those cuts are from Bellatrix.” Lucius agreed and his eyes moved to Rodolphus’ for confirmation, but Rodolphus wouldn’t look at him either. 

After Azkaban, there are a lot of ways to deal with emptiness, Lucius decided. He knew that there were many ways to fill this emptiness. When there is nothing, you find whatever it is to be something, whiskey made you warm, Dark Arts made you whole, and sometimes women made you feel for the briefest of moments, something other than nothing. Dementors often left you with nothing, and in a rush to refill the emptiness with something other that the brief dizzying anxiety of freedom, prisoners grabbed at what they could.

For Rodolphus, it was whiskey, and apparently, knives.

“At first.” Rodolphus agreed, looking now away from everyone in the room, and instead focusing on the wall.

Hermione yanked at his arm to get his attention “Never again.”

“Fine!” Rodolphus snapped, unwilling to look at them.

“Promise!” She argued.

“Promised.” Rodolphus turned back to the two of them.

Hermione leaned forward and hugged him. “Idiot.” She muttered and he laughed at her, his arms coming around her.

“Ridiculous girl.”

Hermione sat back, her face alight. “Arm please.”

Rodolphus had a smile as he offered his “Freely given.”

Hermione quirked her lips “Dutifully received.”

When she bit him, it was not tense, the fear of the bite had gone out, and as usual, the ease had returned, and when she looked up after a moment, her lips red with his blood. She looked over at Lucius to make sure.

Lucius swiped at the blood on her lips. “Okay?”

Hermione nodded before turning her attention back to Rodolphus “Your will is your own.” She said again.

Rodolphus sat back, dazed, and Lucius tilted her head towards him, her face covered in the blood of another and kissed her, cleaning her lips of any redness it had, savoring the taste of her mixed with the blood of his best friend.  
  


* * *

  
Hermione wore black, a high necked dress with long sleeves that clung to her curves (a new dress, that he had passed off as an old dress, like everything else that was bought in Paris). She was sitting on his bed,  _ their  _ bed, he amended, waiting for him to finish getting dressed. The master bedroom had been restored a few days prior thanks to the elves’ hard work, but Hermione would not leave his room.

“That room is far too large,” She had explained one evening, laying beside him “It feels off.”

He wore a black suit to match Hermione, and to look inconspicuous as they walked through Toulouse. His hair tied back in a low ponytail despite Hermione’s protests.

“I think I am starting to become evil,” Hermione said with a sigh on his bed, falling back into the duvet.

“Evil people do not care if they are becoming evil, my gift.” Lucius said turning back to her, his bow tie still undone, leaning over her on the bed, his ponytail falling to brush her face as he looked at his young vampress.

“You must have cared at some point.” Hermione said, pressing her hands against his chest.

“Are you saying  _ I _ am evil?” He purred, kissing her forehead.

“Decidedly.” Hermione laughed as he kissed her nose.

“Perhaps if you give me time I can show you how evil I’ve become.”

Hermione lifted her chin so that their lips met, warm and welcoming, pliant beneath him as he nipped her to get that gasp of pleasure he so often sought from her.

There was a knock on the door and it opened “Ready?”

Lucius broke the kiss and touched his forehead to hers. “Unfortunate timing.”

“I can order him to leave.” She smiled and gave him a quick kiss.

“I heard that.” Rodolphus said as Lucius stood back up, pulling Hermione with him.

She had a pretty blush at being caught at something so innocent and Lucius kissed her on the head again. “Order him to leave.”

“We  _ all _ must leave even if you want to be fashionably late, Lucius.” Rodolphus scolded “Let’s get this over with.”

Hermione took a steadying breath. “Let’s meet your family, Lucius.”  
  


* * *

He placed his hand on her lower back, guiding her to the black door of _Louis and Louis_ _Esq_. and some part of Lucius realized he was steering her into the gates of hell. He knocked once, twice, and then on the third a sickly looking blonde stumbled out to greet them. A voice that was not her own replied, her mouth moved as an otherworldly sound came out “ _Master Lucius_ , _you have changed. Bring your wife._ ”

The woman collapsed on the door and Hermione let out a small gasp, pushing back against him to get away. There was no way out now, no way out but through.

“My name will protect us.” Lucius promised, not sure if it was entirely true as he guided Hermione over the body of the woman who was now bleeding out in the entryway. “Forward.”

Rodolphus seemed agitated, and it was not the death, but the discomfort Hermione was clearly feeling as they walked through the quiet foyer. Her eyes kept darting around and Rodolphus kept pace with her.

The woman at the doorway followed them, her gait unnatural, so much so that Rabastan skittered away from her. Finally they were corralled to a wooden door. “Welcome.”

Hermione reached for the door handle, opening it and the four of them were greeted with a wall of sound, pumping  _ loud _ music with a heavy beat that shook the floor. The room was filled with muggles in a large clump gyrating and dancing under a heavy fog, as far as Lucius could tell. It smelled like food and sweat, and he did not regret eating before he came.

The woman who had herded them in the room began to stumble off to the side and Hermione was left with no choice but to follow along the walls of the party, Lucius’ hand in hers. There was a sudden stab of horns from the room somewhere and she was slightly startled, squeezing his hand.

They were led out of the room and into another, this time one that Lucius remembered, the sitting room with Persian rugs, the beat of the other room now dulled into just the percussion, a heartbeat that made the house feel alive.

Three bodies lay on the floor where a carpet once was, the odor of death was so pungent that Rodolphus stepped back behind them, covering his nose with his sleeve. Louis stood up offering his hand to Hermione. “My wife has been dying to meet you, we have not had a new wife in ages.”

Hermione offered her hand gently “I had to die to meet you, as well.” He kissed it and she tensed.

“Oh, very good indeed, my wife Cetra, will adore you.” He laughed “We were worried, for a moment, that your mate would not turn.”

“You’re an excellent motivator, cousin.” Lucius demurred, stepping over a corpse of a dead man who was still spilling blood out onto the wooden floors to sit in a wingback chair, and motioned for Hermione to join him.

“I daresay your young wife was a motivator?” Louis seated himself across from him and looked over at the LeStrange brothers “and her two thralls as well, my dear, you will be good for the community.”

“I asked my dear cousin Etienne, and I will ask you now, Louis, if you have any information on the Malfoy sire. Where is our family from?”

“You know, of course,” Louis said “That our family name is not our true name.”

“I do.” Lucius agreed.

“Then if you know the true name, you do not know our sire?” Louis looked at him in disbelief and Lucius felt himself get agitated. He was not an idiot, and yet he felt like one. 

Hermione seemed to go still next to him. “It’s a common name, is it not?”

Louis let out a bark of laughter. “In France? Or in back home?”

“Bohemia?” Hermione followed, but she clearly already knew the answer.

“No, not Bohemia, but close by.” The door opened and a willowy blonde woman entered, her lips red “Cetra! Come meet the new wife, what is your name, girl?”  
  
“Hermione.” Her voice broke on her own name and Lucius took her hand as she stood, confused at her reticence.

Cetra took her hand and shook it gently “Charmed, we have not had a new wife in France in many years.”

Hermione found some social graces “Your husband was telling us so, just now. I wasn’t aware wives were so rare, in the journals you sent, it seemed a given.”

“Well, a wife is born when a vampire is in need, although in Louis’ case, he is always in need of something.” Cetra squeezed his shoulder and turned her attention to the two men on the far side of the room “You are recently turned, but you already have two thralls, a busy girl. I did not have my first until I was near twenty years turned.”

“Well,” Hermione said, moving to protect the LeStrange’s from Cetra’s wandering hands “I did my reading.”

“I can tell, I can tell.”

“The books, however, there was no mention of the true origins of the Tepes family, only about Malfoys.” Hermione continued, putting herself between Cetra and Rabastan.

Cetra gave her a smile “Protective.” Instead Cetra’s finger’s traced Hermione’s face and Lucius gave a start “However, the reason we were so  _ eager  _ to meet with Lucius is because someone else has been waiting for this branch of the family to come home to France.”

Lucius could  _ taste _ Hermione’s fear and Rodolphus, agitated, came up to her side, touching her arm to see if she was truly alright as Cetra’s fingers came up underneath Hermione’s chin.

“The sire.” Hermione breathed “Is here?”

“To meet you, my little bird, and your mate.” Cetra smiled “The direct line of the family. We are  _ so _ pleased that you have returned, and Etienne threw this party so that there would be no shortage at this feast.”

Hermione’s eyes flicked to the door they entered from and then back to Lucius. 

“When?” Lucius asked, hoarse.

“Now, if you’d like. He’s eager to meet you Lucius, to welcome you back after your grandfather abandoned him.”

“Right, right!” Louis said, giddy “Cetra enough scaring the girl, you were young once too.”

Hermione leaned back into Rodolphus and whispered something in his ear that made him look at her strangely and shake his head before she left the two of them. It was Rodolphus’ look that told him more than Hermione’s next words.

Louis got up and followed Cetra out, sparing a glance to Lucius who knew that was his cue to follow his two estranged relatives into the next room, deeper into  _ Louis and Louis Esq _ .

Hermione grabbed him, her hand tight around his bicep “Lucius,” Hermione said her words measured “We’re in danger.”

“You know the sire.” He said matter of factly.

“We’re all about to know him in a minute,” Rodolphus said “We’re really fucked now.”

“My name will protect us.” Lucius assured, beginning to follow Cetra through the door.

“Your  _ name _ is what got us into this mess.” Rabastan muttered.

The music began to fade as they went deeper inside the house, down a narrow passageway that was definitely meant for servants and Hermione’s breathing was labored. Lucius reached behind him and grabbed her hand. She was panicking, they all were.

When Cetra opened the door the first thing she said was “My lord.” 

Lucius wondered if he was going to be greeted with the Dark Lord in some twisted plot to bring him back to England with the other stray Death Eaters and he prepared for the  _ cruciatus _ that was about to come, but Cetra stepped aside, allowing them all entrance into the back room.

A man sat at a kitchen table, toying with the stem of a wine glass, the table cloth stained red in splotches from blood. His power was almost suffocating, he had long black hair that curled and twisted like vines, a beard that was perfectly manicured, and lips as red as Cetras. He was thin, but not sickly so, he was old, but not excessively. Hermione seemed to know who it was immediately and bowed her head slightly.

She spoke first, before Lucius. “Lord Dracula.”

“Miss Hermione.” His voice was smooth like butter “Louis said  _ you _ would be the reason my ancestors returned to me, but I did not believe him until now.”

“I saw her in Toulouse, and I knew it could not be long.” Louis tittered eagerly in agreement with the man seated at the table.

“Sit with me, Lucius.” Dracula ordered “Finally, my young have come back to me. I have much to discuss since Arcteus left.”

Hermione turned to Rodolphus making eye contact briefly, and then nodded to Lucius before they both were seated at the worn dining table. Hermione was completely rigid beside him, no longer shivering in fear, just an eerie stillness that made Lucius wonder if she was truly even with him. 

Lucius grabbed her hand underneath the table and squeezed. He had to get them out of this alive. He would make this up to her a thousand times over.

“Etienne, the fool boy that Cetra spawned told me that you were interested in your heritage.” Dracula said, tapping his fingers on the table. “I am sad to see so much of our history was lost in the migration to that island, it is no matter, only a few hundred years to right a wrong.”

Dracula slid a small journal across the table “I do not take issues with my family lightly, of course, and when the church came after Arcteus’ wife, I did not rest on this matter. Since you do not know me well, I understand that you do not trust me, but I know that your young wife likes to read.”

Hermione placed her hand on the journal that was offered “Thank you, Lord Dracula.”

“I was told that you are quite a scholar,” Dracula purred “As am I, I’d like to invite you to the family home, there is no greater library in all of the world.”

“When?” Lucius asked.

There was a scream from a room nearby and Hermione jumped. Dracula straightened up, shooting a look at Louis who immediately skittered from the room to take care of whatever it was.

“Who have you been speaking to about me?” Hermione asked quietly, deference forgotten in her nervousness, “The wolves?”

Dracula gave her a smile “A man approached me a few moons ago, well, Cetra, I guess.”

Cetra gave a small nod in agreement. “He was no man.”

“He wanted an alliance with vampires for something, it was insignificant to me.” Dracula laughed and Lucius felt Hermione squeeze his hand to meter out some of her fear. “Something on that island, but he knew a lot about you, my daughter.”

“Tom Riddle?” Hermione ventured.

Dracula seemed to think it over for a moment “Cetra, do you remember?”

“Albus Dumbledore.” Cetra supplied “He came in August.”

“Albus Dumbledore is dead.” Hermione insisted. “He died in May.”

“Perhaps he wished for death, to ask the vampires to assist in some human war. Who interrupts animals in a fight?” Dracula waved it off as Louis came back in and then suddenly went back out “And to think to offer my daughter to  _ me _ as a reward. I need no help from humans.”

Hermione looked like she was going to be sick. “Then, the Order knew when they abandoned me. It wasn’t fear of sickness. It was-”

“He was no man.” Cetra insisted, softening at Hermione’s reaction as a mother would a child “A half man, cursed.”

“They knew, everyone  _ knew _ .” Hermione insisted “They kept me as some animal to barter with, and when the talks fell through, when I no longer had value, I was left to die at school.”

“This is not something to take lightly.” Dracula continued “Humans often think to use wives against us, your grandfather knew this well. I know this well.”

Lucius knew that this was a call to action from the sire, he could ally himself to his ancestor and get revenge for Hermione, or...or what? His mind was coated in a thick blanket of fear mixed with a simmering rage. Lucius was old enough to see this was manipulation, but he wasn’t sure if he was strong enough to get out of this room without falling for it.

“Family means everything to us, Lucius.” Cetra urged “Your wife’s distress at this information pains us. Vampires are above human wars, but we are not above bringing the cattle into line if they...inconvenience us.”

“Come home for the solstice.” Dracula said, an order phrased as a suggestion. He captured Hermione’s hand between his own. “My daughter, do not upset yourself. The issue is no matter, you are family, and family means  _ everything _ .”

Hermione nodded and looked at Lucius. It was time to leave.

“It’s been a long day,” Lucius said, standing up and offering his hand to Hermione “As much as we wish to stay-”

“It is too much, I agree. Next time, it will be quieter.” Dracula looked at Cetra “With less mess.”

“Yes, my lord.” Cetra agreed.

“I will send word, my son.” Dracula said as Hermione stood. “And gifts.”

As they walked out Lucius knew that it was not a question of if he would abandon his humanity, it was when.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What if, instead of being protected by ethics, we are trapped by them?

She collapsed on the street outside the house, and in a hurry, he caught her, sinking to the curb, cradling in her arms “How? How did everyone know before us?” She whispered in disbelief

“It will be well, my gift.” Lucius assured, pulling her into him, afraid of what it would take _to_ make it well “The Order will regret everything they have done.”  
  
“Fuck,” Rodolphus said, sitting on the curb next to Lucius “I feel as if we’ve met something darker than even our lord.”

“We did.” Rabastan said and sat beside his brother “And it likes Hermione.”

“I’m not some  _ cow _ you can trade for an alliance.” Hermione said angrily “I’m a human being.”

“Dumbledore is alive,” Lucius said, petting her hair “He’s meddling somewhere on the continent, looking for alliances to replenish his little army’s numbers.”

“Maybe they weren’t after the sword, but Hermione?” Rodolphus asked, a winter wind blowing over them, and then suddenly it was warm. “To get someone as powerful as Lord Dracula, a myth by all accounts, to back your little club, it’s a God meddling in the affairs of men.”

“How did Dumbledore know? Is there a test to perform on  _ mates _ of vampires?” Rabastan piped up. “He had to have known when he arrived, to offer you.”

Hermione looked down at her body briefly “It’s in the blood, isn’t it? To encourage you to mate, and Headmaster Snape had to-” She closed her eyes here, schooling her features. “He had to brew restoratives after I was cursed in the Department of Mysteries. He would have known then.”

“Silver Oxide to purify curse wounds.” Rabastan said “It would have killed you.”

“It probably almost did,” Rodolphus scratched his chin.

“I was inducted into The Order afterwards, it was unprecedented, the first muggleborn since Lily Potter.” Hermione was staring at the pavement bitterly, “Now I see why they were in a rush to let me join.”

“And a rush to get you back.” Rabastan muttered darkly.

“They’re out of luck, unfortunately.” Hermione said standing up “Lucius found me first.”

Lucius looked up at the vampress, her wild hair catching moonlight, her face still wet from her tears, but her eyes shone with anger, not sadness. It all traced back to Severus, and suddenly, Lucius felt bad for letting him leave his property alive, because he, not vampirism, was the reason Hermione was hurting.

“Home?” Rabastan said, getting up and dusting off his pants.

Rabastan towered over Hermione, frail as he was, he had a certain warmth about him that complimented her, both brothers did. Hermione hugged herself and looked at Lucius expectantly.

“Home?”

Lucius stood up and offered his hand to Rodolphus, wrapping his arm around Hermione’s waist. There was a moment of  _ rightness _ in the storm of all the wrong as Rodolphus took his hand with a smile.

“What was that music?” Rabastan asked as the four of them walked up the drive, snow and gravel crunching under their feet “And those people?” 

“I am sad we did not meet Etienne,” Hermione said put out “I would have liked to given him something to remember me by.”

Lucius laughed “You are unforgettable, my dear, even moreso now.”

“I thought he was a Count?” Rodolphus said, walking beside Hermione “You said he is a Lord”

“Lord Dracul is what the books call him, he is mentioned to be the first vampire, the sire of all vampires, but he’s not that old in vampire terms: just 600 years old. I just think that there are no other old vampires left.” Hermione said and raced ahead turning back to the group of men and walking backwards “I think he murdered them all to become the alpha vampire, and Lucius is his  _ only _ direct descendent, all the Malfoys here, all his cousins, are by marriage.”

“Are you the Count then?” Rodolphus teased as they burst inside, warmth hitting them from the manor and house elves lined up to greet them. 

“Count Lucius?” Hermione spoke the name out loud.

“Lord Lucius.” Lucius corrected.

“Ponce Lucius.” Rabastan said as they all filtered into the drawing room.

Hermione laughed, and the stresses of the night began to melt away like snow, leaving them to enjoy the dwindling hours of darkness making fun of everything they had seen that night, from Louis (where is the  _ other _ Louis?) to Lord Dracula himself (is  _ he _ the other Louis?).

As Hermione and he collapsed into bed at dawn, she looked at him seriously, tucked beneath the blankets, only her eyes peeking out atop the fluffy duvet. 

“Lucius,” Hermione ventured “I am afraid of him.”

Lucius turned over, hair falling in front of his eyes as he took her hands into his “Me too.” He said honestly “But what is it you said, the devil you know?”

“We don’t know him, we just know  _ of _ him.” Hermione said quickly, moving closer so her lips touched his hands, and she spoke her secrets into them. “Dumbledore, the Dark Lord, they are people, but Dracula is-”

“A vampire.”

“A vampire of myth. That has to count for something.” Hermione said quickly “Even muggles know to fear Dracula.”

“I promise you, my Hermione.” Lucius kissed her hands “I will protect you, from The Order, the Dark Lord, or even from a vampire of myth.”

“How?” She asked quickly.

Lucius did not have an answer yet. He was eternal, she was eternally bound to him, he had money and he was a descendent of the most powerful vampire to have ever lived. The odds were in his favor. What did Dumbledore have? What did anyone have on him?

She huffed at his lack of response “You’re so arrogant, Lucius. You’re outnumbered on enemies three to one.”

He kissed her gently “You gave me eternity, it’s only right that I give you peace.”

She ducked her head underneath the blankets in response.

“That was stupid.” He heard underneath the blanket a while later.  
  


* * *

  
When he got up for the evening, Hermione was already attending breakfast, she liked to be awake as the sun went down, watching the light disappear from the flooring just under the curtains. He got dressed lazily, wondering how many more mornings he would get with nothing pressing happening. Dracula had sent no notice or presents, The Order had not come to his door, and the Dark Lord had forgotten about the three of them.

The past few evenings Hermione had went eisblume picking with Rabastan, a makeshift potions lab taking up half the kitchen where they experimented. Rodolphus and Lucius spent their time indoors, and as the week wore on, less and less wine made their way to the table and more and more laughter. Old wounds were closing up slowly, and Rodolphus was right, the continent  _ was _ doing good for them.

He came down to the breakfast table to see Hermione toying with a goblet of blood, another experiment, he was sure by the eager look on Rabastan’s face (and was silently glad Hermione was already dead so the amateur potioneer didn’t kill her again). There was a scroll neatly tied with red ribbon and the Hogwarts seal that lay on the table and Rodolphus was eating a full English with a cup of coffee.

“From Severus?” Lucius asked sitting down at the table, it was strange to hold this ritual when he clearly did not need it.

“Hermione won’t open it, it’s addressed to her.” Rodolphus said nudging the scroll with his fork and looking pointedly at the girl across from him who was avoiding eye contact with anyone.

“Precisely because it is addressed to me, I will not read it.” She said taking her goblet and sipping it cautiously only to grimace and put it back down. Her voice was strangled as she spoke. “Headmaster Snape would never write to  _ Hermione _ ” 

Rabastan picked it up and tasted it and gagged. “No.”

Lucius picked it up and broke the seal only to read a note, not from Severus, but from a  _ Prof. R.J. Lupin _ .

He scanned the letter and his eyes moved up to the end of the table, looking out the window to the moon hanging low over the hills, not full, but almost, dangerously almost. “Lupin,” Lucius tested the name, and Hermione’s reaction. She was impassive. “Requests a meeting.”

“Ridiculous,” scoffed Rodolphus “Didn’t you say he was a werewolf? It’s suicide.”

Hermione leaned over to scan the letter in his hand, and sat back, twirling the stem of her latest potions experiment. “We should go.”

“Absolutely not.” Rodolphus insisted “Hermione.” His tone held censure.

“What are we doing with the sword anyways, Rodolphus!” Hermione’s voice cracked and Lucius looked up from the letter to see her fidgeting “Let’s just hand it over-”  
  
“And kill me in the process?” Rodolphus snapped, angry not so much over The Order, but that Hermione seemed to favor them over him.

“It’s unwise to give them the sword, but it is wise to meet with them before they meet with us, unexpected or otherwise.” Lucius said tossing the scroll down.

Hermione wouldn’t look at anyone sitting at the table, her fingers still on the glass. “When?”

“The day after the full moon,” Rabastan said looking out towards windows where Lucius had looked earlier, “When they are weak.”

Hermione left through the kitchen and Rodolphus got up quickly to follow. “You are too cruel to her, Rodolphus.” Lucius warned “She still has morals, unlike you.”

Rodolphus stopped at the door. “Her morals are killing her. She won’t eat, and now she’s rushing off to get the sword to go meet two werewolves two nights before the full moon.”

“You have to let her come willingly.” Rabastan cautioned.

Lucius wasn’t so sure he wanted Hermione to change, it was that inherent goodness that drew them to her, the morality that many others did not have. That no Slytherin had. Rodolphus was right, she was caging herself with her goodness. How could he save her without destroying her? Would they have to turn their back on their vampirism so she could live without harming others? Would they have to return to the war so she could help those who shunned her?

“She will come.” Rabastan insisted “You cannot force her, brother. She cares.”

“She cares too much about others and not enough about those who care for her!” Rodolphus said turning back to the room. “How can I save her if she won’t let me even help her?”

It was the crux of it, of course, that Rodolphus cared too much about the girl and that was causing him his own crisis.

“She doesn’t need saving.” Lucius said boredly, standing up to find Hermione “She’s already immortal, what more does she need?”

Hermione was, of course, standing in the kitchen, staring at the door down into the dungeons where Lucius often got _his_ dinner, looking like she had swallowed something vile. “I heard your conversation.” She said, her knuckles white on the table top.  
“I know you did, as does Rodolphus. It was for your benefit.” He said, kissing the top of her head and turning his attention back to the door to see if today she would move towards it.

“They were my friends for my whole life, how can I abandon them?” She said turning to look at him and he didn’t have an answer for it. “How can I forget everything I fought for?”

“Do you want to be fighting for The Order?” Lucius asked, dreading the answer.

“No, but I don’t want to be fighting against them either. They are not my enemies.” Hermione turned towards him, a thoughtful look “To be truthful, Lucius, I am more worried about the old Headmaster than Professor Lupin.”

“You are a vampire, is there anything to worry about?”

Hermione put her finger to her lip “I am not worried about me. What is to stop him from bartering others to Dracula? What about the werewolves? The fae? I got lucky, others might not be lucky.”

Lucius should have known there was some moral crusade stuck in there that had nothing to do with the Dark Lord or their heritage, but the less fortunate.

“Is today the day?” He asked, gesturing to the door that held dinner for him, and dread for her.

“It could be.” She said moving towards it a step, her hand touching the handle to the door and then as she teetered on the edge of acceptance a crack of a house elf startled the both of them.

Tuppy was wringing her hands in the presence of Hermione “Mistress, Master, a visitor.”

Lucius swallowed his frustration and the intrusion. “Who?”

“Rodolphus LeStrange?” A voice rang out from the dining room and Lucius froze. “Where is my father?”

Hermione grabbed the door and Rabastan burst into the kitchen, almost stepping on Tuppy, but the younger brother was not fast enough and Draco Malfoy was hot on his heels.

“Father-... _ Granger? _ ”

Rabastan stepped in front of her and Hermione stepped out from behind him, her hand still on the door handle to the dungeons, her fingers slipped and Lucius cursed himself. Today was supposed to be  _ the day _ that she was supposed to finally recognize her nature.

Lucius hid his irritation.“Draco.” Lucius said, his voice rang clear in the kitchens.

“You left, and mother would not explain why.” Draco’s voice was cautious and Lucius caught sight of Draco’s hand moving towards his wand “She said you were dead.”

Rodolphus walked in behind Draco and was tapping his wand impatiently “We were just about to eat, Draco, why don’t you join us?”

“I want  _ someone _ to explain why there is a mudblood in my kitchen.”

“Your kitchen?” Rabastan asked, arching an eyebrow.

Draco stumbled on his words “Well, as the heir to the Malfoy-”

He stopped speaking when Hermione yanked open the door to the basement and disappeared. Rabastan followed her, leaving Lucius, Rodolphus, and Draco in the kitchen.

“Father.” Draco ventured, a veneer of arrogance that wore on Lucius’ nerves.

Rodolphus stepped back, gesturing back towards the dining room and Lucius knew that despite tonight being a first for Hermione, he had to deal with the past, before he could move forward with her.

The three of them sat around a table. Lucius idly playing with his glass, his mind going over a thousand ways to divulge to Draco that he wasn’t his father. However, as much as he hated Narcissa for her infidelity, he could not summon the anger against the boy he had raised.

“What is that mudblood Granger doing here?” Draco said, breaking the silence, stressing Hermione’s blood status with a sneer.

“She is my guest.” Lucius decided to go with vagaries, lest he report back to Narcissa.

“You can’t be serious.” Draco laughed “She’s a swot, and she’s-”

“I would be careful about your next words.” Rodolphus chimed in. “About our guest.”

Draco fell silent and looked at the glass of pig’s blood left at Hermione’s place setting. He picked it up, sniffed it, and then set it back down, his eyes moving to Rodolphus who just raised an eyebrow, daring Draco to say anything more.

“Mother came to France a week ago, but denied it.”

“She was here, yes.” Lucius said and watched Rodolphus shift uncomfortably.

“She won’t speak about it.” Draco said “And now you are divorced.”

“Correct.” Lucius said and there was a male yell from the dungeons, but no one moved save for Draco. “Why are you here?”

Draco looked at the plate, empty and untouched, a holdover from when Hermione ate food. “You’re my father. I came-” A pause “What exactly is going on here?”

“Dinner.” Rodolphus replied.

“With the mudblood from school?” Draco eyed Rodolphus for a moment “Are you...is this for our Lord?” He corrected himself before he strayed too far out of dinner conversation territory, a trait from Narcissa, no doubt.

As much as Lucius detested Draco for what he is, a greater part of him, a part no doubt influenced by Hermione, knew that Draco still saw him as his father. His eyes fell on the door again wishing that he could be with Hermione instead of mired in his past.

“We have quit England.” Lucius said with a tone of finality. “Your mother does not wish to be far from her family, and so we are here. The LeStranges are staying with us until the manor is opened, and Hermione-” He paused trying to pick words that truly fit her status “is an honored guest.”

“Honored guest.” Draco repeated the words to make them somehow more true to him, but he soured on the last syllable.

Anty popped in “Another visitor Master, a woman.”

“Mother?” Draco stood up immediately, but Lucius knew that Narcissa would never willingly set foot in the manor again, and with the wards, she couldn't.

“Get Hermione.” Lucius said standing up and Rodolphus exited the room as Lucius hesitantly approached the door. Was it the Order?  
  
Draco rushed ahead of him eager to see his mother and was greeted with another blonde, dressed in red, accompanied by two men who had armfuls of books. “Who are you?”

Lucius stepped into the foyer and Cetra turned to him. “You keep a lot of humans around.”

“Unfortunately.” Lucius said as Draco sneered at the woman.

“I have come to see your wife. Our Lord is concerned, and I must confess, he is not the only one.”

Rodolphus came into the room, holding the door open for a bewildered looking Hermione who stepped over the threshold of the doorway, and then stopped. “Cetra!”

Rabastan stopped just behind her, towering over her and blocking the light from the other room.

“You have lost more weight since I have seen you last.” Cetra said, walking over to her and pulling on her wrist gently. Hermione looked over at him pleadingly. “Our lord has brought you gifts, and I am here to teach you yours.”

“Books?” Hermione asked.

“From the estate.” Cetra brushed her fingers across Hermione’s cheeks in a tenderness only a lover could claim, and Lucius bristled. “Are you collecting all of these humans, my little bird? This one is unclaimed.”

Hermione turned to look where Cetra was gesturing, their bodies only inches from one another. Everyone looked at Draco.

“A classmate.” Hermione said hurriedly and Lucius stepped in front of Draco to a squawk of protest from his son. “Tuppy, will you take the books to the library. Cetra, we were just having dinner.”

The two men, not much older than Hermione, gratefully unloaded the books to the elves who gave a nervous look to the mistress of the house before disappearing with soft pops.

Cetra grabbed Hermione’s wrist and Lucius reached out for the other. “Louis used to be protective of me, but he has other things to keep him busy lately.” Cetra yanked on Hermione a little harder, and Hermione looked back at him, her eyes wide in fear.

Rodolphus moved towards Hermione to grab her but Cetra walked the two of them over to the men who stood unblinking in the middle of the room.

“Little bird, let me feed you.” Cetra said, and withdrew a knife that was hidden in the folds of the dress. “Wives take care of each other.”

It happened so quickly he didn’t register anything but Hermione’s sharp intake of breath and the man, so taken by Cetra’s thrall, fell with a thud onto the floor of the foyer, making a choking noise as he grabbed at the wound at his neck, but did not fight against death, instead waited patiently to die for his mistress.

Draco screamed as Hermione stood unmoving, blood puddling around her feet, the entirety of her robes glistening with wetness. He could smell the fragrance filling the room and knew that it would not be long before Hermione surrendered unwillingly to her nature.

“I know,” cooed Cetra “I know this wrongness you feel.”

Lucius grabbed Hermione and pulled her back towards him. “I expected you to behave better than Etienne.” He snapped, and tried to hide the horrors from Hermione, but saw that her hem was dragging blood as she moved away, the blood followed. It smelled like heaven.

Draco made a strangled noise and Rodolphus hushed him.

“If you do not feed her, she will go mad.” Cetra snapped “Come, little bird, let me show you.”

“No!” Hermione pushed away from Lucius, but her fangs were apparent to everyone in the room. “It’s not right.”

“It is who you are now. This is  _ right _ .” Cetra’s voice was true, it was something he told Hermione repeatedly. “Eat.”

Hermione wrested from him and fled the room, which left the female vampire to stare at Lucius. “It is for  _ you _ to provide for her.”

“I provide.” Lucius shot back as Rabastan banished the blood from the room, at which Lucius felt a twinge of loss.

Cetra seemed to want to say more, but bit her tongue. “This is the invitation.” She held out a red envelope between her fingers.

Lucius grabbed it but Cetra held onto it longer “Eternal life can be a curse, coddle her too much, and  _ you _ will understand shortly.”

Cetra left, and the remaining man kneeled down before them. “Keep him.”

Draco made a horrified choking sound as Cetra walked back out the door, and Lucius left to find Hermione.


	19. Chapter 19

“Objectively,” She said, toying with the cover of one of the books that had been gifted to her. “I know.”

Lucius sat across from his mate in front of the fire, an external warmth that he no longer needed, but Hermione liked the smell. “To murder a man in the foyer…” Lucius sighed in anger, but it melted away when he noticed that Hermione looked nowhere but the fire. “Cetra is no different than Etienne.”

“This is our culture now.” Hermione said, her voice breaking “To be a vampire means to be a murderer.”

Lucius scoffed at this “This is their culture, it will _not_ be mine.”  
  
Hermione regarded him seriously “Then what will we do? How will we eat?”

“How many prisoners are in our dungeons?”  
  
“Seven”

“How many did Rabastan bring?”  
  
“Seven.”

Lucius tapped on his lips. “Do you think I am starving myself?”

Rodolphus stepped into the room quietly, looking at Lucius, an askance if Hermione was alright without any words spoken. Lucius exhaled and looked over at his mate, the most impossible vampress.

“Will she return?” Rodolphus asked. “She left one.”

“And Draco?” Hermione asked getting up, offering her hand to Lucius.

“Rabastan is looking after him, and  _ we _ will look after you.” Rodolphus said as Hermione walked up to him. “Ready to try dinner?”

“Rabastan told you.” She accused.

“There’s no harm in asking for help.”

Hermione flushed red and pushed past Rodolphus, exiting the library with a book in hand. 

Rodolphus explained as they trailed her that Hermione had tried to drink blood from one of the prisoners, but when they flinched, her precise cutting spell severed some digits instead.

Hermione defended herself weakly as they passed by the confused thrall that Cetra had left in the foyer. “He’s healed, and obliviated, and had I known Rabastan was a gossip, I would have obliviated him too.”

The dungeon was quiet, the prisoners sleeping, a few low level death eaters that no one had missed. Two of which were Draco’s former classmates. A quidditch star turned brew pub mainstay: Marcus Flint, was in a magically sustained sleep and Lucius assumed he had been the victim of a less than precise cutting spell.

“Ask, my gift.” Lucius said as they stood in front of a row of cells.

It was of no surprise to him, as he would tell Rodolphus later, that when Hermione spoke, the whole room paid attention, and they offered their lives at her feet.

Hermione was startled when an old enemy immediately held his arm out to her through the bars of his cell.

“Consent.” Rodolphus said.  
  


* * *

He stroked her hair gently as they sat in his study, his fingers catching in curls, twisting, untwisting as she read quietly beside him, the moral dilemma of feeding settling her into a sated silence as Rodolphus flipped through  _ Le Journee Tribune _ , a pile of unopened owl post at his feet. 

“What will you do about the boy?” Rodolphus asked, the shuffling of paper as Lucius scribbled another accounting error in red. 

“Send him home in the morning, there’s nothing for him here.” Lucius replied, twist, untwist, a tug and then a bounce.

Hermione looked up from the journal that Dracula had given her. “Do you think that Draco will leave so easily?”

“Is there a choice?” Rodolphus huffed and folded down the newspaper briefly to look at her, pleased that her coloring had returned to normal after eating. A smile quirked at his lips.

Hermione flushed, becoming acutely aware of her new vampire magic due to the fact that the prisoners clamored to offer themselves to please her. It was a new normal, Lucius decided, to feed his mate blood instead of wine, to break skin so she could feed without harming them personally.

He tugged on a curl and Hermione shot him a look. “He’s your son.”

“He’s not blood.”

“Blood does not factor into relationships.” Hermione said and yawned, dawn was coming soon, they were all tired “Your cousins are blood, and I think we all agree that we would rather not have met them.”  
  
“Here, here.” Rodolphus said from behind the paper, there was a moving image of a farm house on the front page where a man was gesturing out to his field.

Hermione closed the book and looked towards the door to see Draco entering and Lucius stilled his ministrations on Hermione’s hair, his fingers caught inside a coil, and then released.

“Uncle Rodolphus,” Draco ventured “Father, Granger.”

“Speak, and the devil appears.” Rodolphus sighed and folded the paper, eying Hermione warily to make sure she was truly comfortable with the newcomer.  
  
Hermione shifted and Anty appeared “Mistress Hermione?”

“Bring some tea.” She said with a yawn.

Draco sat down next to Rodolphus and Lucius realized that despite his best efforts to keep Draco contained to the school, and despite Draco’s best efforts to keep the stresses of the war off his face, they were more evident in the pre-dawn hours.

The tea set was placed with care, and Hermione leaned over, picking up the lurid floral teapot and pouring a cup for Rodolphus, and then for Draco. It was a testament to Hermione’s patience that she could pour tea for someone who called her a mudblood not four hours ago. “I think it’s English to say that tea fixes everything, but you look like you could use some, Malfoy.” 

“Careful,” Draco said, hesitating before picking up a cup and saucer “Soon you will be a Malfoy.”

“Or Tepes.” Rodolphus said and Hermione shot him a glare.

“So, how did you meet my father, Granger?”

Lucius bristled at the comment but Hermione seemed unphased by his familiarity “The usual place Malfoy men try to accost me: the library.”

Lucius intervened before Draco could open his mouth again “I won’t send you back to England, but you cannot stay here.”

“Why?” Draco sounded petulant and Lucius could feel a headache.

“It’s dangerous, and you can stay in Le Vescient, but not here, not with every Malfoy in France out to  _ educate _ our dear Hermione.”

Hermione huffed “Currying favor.” 

Draco tried to change the subject “Will Uncle Rabastan be-”  
  
“The elves will attend to you.” Rodolphus cut him off “Rabastan and I have business here.”

Draco let his eyes rest on Hermione. “Why did you turn  _ my father _ of all people?”

Hermione choked next to him “Wh-what?”

“We did that report on vampires in fourth year, I knew the signs.” Draco said airily “You never showed up at quidditch matches, the only daytime activity.”

“Draco,” Rodolphus’ tone held warning, but laughter.

“Always in the library by yourself, vampires hate noise-”

“Draco,” Lucius stressed his name the unspoken  _ shut up _ was there.

“An obsession with pureblood males, everyone knows pureblood tastes better than mud-” Draco stopped himself and there was a moment of silence before Hermione began to laugh.

Rodolphus laughed with her and Lucius hid his face in his hands. He was thanking every power there was to thank that Draco was not his. 

“She’s coming for me next, Draco.” Rodolphus begged next to him “She only attacks bitter middle aged men.”

Draco had the grace to blush as Rodolphus roared with laughter at Hermione baring her fangs when she smiled. “Not bitter enough for me, Rodolphus, tell me more about the unholy costs of repairs to Le Vescient. It makes you taste better”

“I get it!” Draco snapped standing up quickly. “It doesn’t explain why you’re here!”

Lucius couldn’t hide his smile as Hermione got up and began to loom over a snickering Rodolphus. “There could be no one else here, but our honored guest.” Lucius said. “It is a curse.”

Hermione seemed to notice that Lucius was avoiding the difficulties of the parenting question. “Draco,” Hermione said, sitting down next to Rodolphus who was wiping tears from his eyes. “Your father was infected first, and if you had done your report thoroughly, age, diet, and  _ status _ affects the taste of blood, not purity.”

“You’re a mudblood.”

“Not blood status,” Hermione said, mischief dancing in her eyes but she gave away no more.

The color drained from Draco’s face, embarrassment replaced with rage.

“Hermione, my love,” Rodolphus purred “Curse me next.”

Lucius watched Draco fight for some witty retort, but Hermione was faster.

“Why not bring me all the old men in your secret little pureblood club, I have all evening to receive them.”

Draco fled in a huff of anger and Hermione and Rodolphus laughed, but Lucius, feeling somehow indebted to the child he had raised followed him out.

“Why her?” Draco looked over the foyer, his hands gripping onto the railing as Lucius surveyed the elves moving back and forth, preparing the manor for the morning. “Why not mother?”

A few choice words came to mind when discussing Narcissa, but tact won out. “Narcissa and I were not meant to be.”

“And my classmate? My mudblood classmate was meant to be? I’m not stupid, father.” Draco sniffed and Lucius realized belatedly that the teasing in the library was out of hand.

Lucius made a thoughtful noise at this. “I do not need to explain my actions, Draco. I will give you advice,” which was more than he had wanted to do, but Hermione was rubbing off on him “Do not return to England, and ask your mother to do the same. If not France, Italy, Corsica, it matters little.”

“And of you, and your... _ meant to be mudblood _ ?” Draco sneered.

“Don’t call her that.” Lucius snapped, his patience for the insult growing thin. “I have no time for people who do not have time for her.”

“She’s a child.” Draco replied heatedly. “She’s the same age as your child.”

“Hardly.” Lucius scoffed, remembering the way she died “It is a few hours before dawn, is this what you wish to leave as your last words to me?”

Draco stilled at this “You’re cutting off contact?”

Yes.

“No.” Lucius said “Unless, you wish it.”

“I need time.”

“I have eternity.”

It was that moment that Draco reminded him exactly of the small boy he sent off to Hogwarts, searching his face for approval. Lucius relented, realizing it was not Hermione that made Draco angry, but the loss of Lucius. 

Lucius sighed. “I understand that it is a lot to take in. However, I will be there when you are ready..”

Draco turned away from him now, crossing his arms in petulance “I wanted her.” He muttered. “You  _ knew _ I wanted her.”

Lucius bristled “It is not about want, it’s because-” 

How could he even begin to explain that Hermione was created for him from the moment she was placed on this earth? That her soul was matched for him, that she was to be his companion for eternity?

“It’s because Lucius Malfoy gets what he wants.” Draco spat bitterly, and walked down the foyer, past few portraits that bid him good morning.

“Soon,” Draco shouted up from the foyer “You will get what you deserve.”

He walked back to the library where Hermione was waiting for him anxiously next to Rodolphus.

“Well?” Hermione asked.

“He’s upset.” Lucius demurred

“Why?”

“He’s not your taste.” Lucius replied casually sitting down “And you are his.”

Rodolphus sat back smugly and opened the paper “Ask him to wait another thirty years and to marry a banshee, perhaps then he will be  _ to taste _ .”

“Are you implying that you’re my taste, Rodolphus?”

A smile was Rodolphus’ only response.  
  


* * *

  
Hermione was sluggish as they walked down the streets of Toulouse, she held the sword in a bundle of cream fabric that she held close to her like a child. Rodolphus towered over her and Hermione tried to disappear into the cobblestones.

“You wanted this.” Rodolphus reminded her as she sighed again, minding the sword.

Lucius knew that they would refuse the sword so both he and Rodolphus relented on her bringing it. He knew that Hermione refused to see herself as the true prize for the Order, afraid that her friends had commodified her to a bartering chip in a war game.

“Some lessons,” Rabastan had said in the dwindling hours of the night, as the fires dwindled to embers “you only can learn from experience.”

Lucius watched Rabastan guide her forward through the streets, his hand on her lower back, pushing her forward and every so often, Hermione would look back at him for assurance, that type of assurance that she did not need when she met Lord Dracula, but when she met the English, she would look back often. This type of assurance he gave her with a raised eyebrow, it was responded to with a smile, and finally, at the end of the street, there was a small cafe called  _ Rene’s _ .

Lucius saw a flash of red hair that made Hermione stop, but Rabastan pushed her forward.

She was seated across from the Weasley boy and the raggedy old man that she called Professor and Lucius sat beside her. There was two empty cups of coffee, and Lucius was pleased that they had waited so long for them.

She dumped the sword on the table with a clatter. “Take it.”

“This isn’t what we wanted.” Lupin sighed and reached across to take her hand in his but Lucius intervened, covering Hermione’s hand with his own. “We know you have it, the Headmaster requests it.”

“I assume this isn’t for something related to her education.” Rodolphus mused and Hermione turned to shoot him a look.

“Why?” Hermione asked “Why me?”

The red headed Weasley regarded her for a moment before shifting his gaze over to Lucius “Do you know who he is, Hermione?”

“Yes.” She spoke slowly as two more cups of coffee were placed on the table.  
  
“Then you know why the Headmaster wants you.”

“The Malfoy family has quit England.” Lucius said “If you are looking for financial backing, I suggest you try and get a bank loan.” Lucius moved to get up, but Weasley stopped him, his hand on his sleeve, fingers twisting into the expensive fabric.

“We are not interested in your money.”

“Hermione,” Lupin’s voice cracked on her name and Hermione was staring at the sword of Gryffindor that divided the table, and the coffee cups. “Has he told you who he is?”

“Who is he?” She asked, her fingers threading through the handle of the cup “Tell me, professor.”

“Hermione,” Lupin said and reached for her again, his fingers tangling up in her curl as he brushed it away from her face and Lucius watched her eyes slide from her coffee to him. “He hasn’t told you. He’s hiding things from you. You should come back with us, your _friends_.”

Rodolphus tensed behind her.

“What is he hiding, professor?” Mock innocence.

“He is Dracula’s heir, he’s a vampire.” Lupin said withdrawing his hand and sitting back, waiting for a reaction.

“Lucius,” Hermione asked, warming her hands on the mug, but not moving “Are you a vampire?”

“I am.” Lucius purred and leaned closer to her. “I cannot hide from you, after all, you’re the brightest witch of your age.”

“Then what, professor?” Hermione tilted her head. “What are  _ you _ hiding, professor?”

Lupin looked uncomfortable under her gaze and turned to look out the window. “The Headmaster asked us to retrieve you, that you’re critical now.”

“Critical to what?” Rodolphus snapped, irritated of the sidesteps.

“You threw me out of headquarters  _ personally _ , Professor Lupin. You escorted me to Hogwarts  _ personally _ . When did I become critical to the Order? When I got well?”

“You could have been contagious!” Weasley interjected “We had to protect our own.”

“Then who is Hermione to you lot then?” Rodolphus said, his voice took on a dangerous tone “If she was not  _ your own _ .”

“Stop lying to me! I know you  _ knew _ .” Hermione hissed “You knew what I was when you dumped me like rubbish at Hogwarts.”

Lupin put his hands up “Severus-” 

The name made Lucius see red for a moment “Severus  _ what _ ?” 

“It wasn’t enough…” Lupin looked at none of them, and instead stared at the reflection in the window of the diner, two people were missing. “You were unbonded.”

Rabastan, who had been quiet, finally spoke “A trap.”

“Not a trap, no.” Lupin wheedled “An inevitability.”

Hermione grabbed the sword and stood up suddenly, hugging it to her chest, the plastic chair rocking on its legs, the coffee spilling with a  _ clink _ all over the white tabletop. “I was  _ bait _ ?”

Lucius leaned forward, the stench of the werewolves mixed with coffee was sickening, he grabbed Weasley's face with his forefinger and thumb, and the air  _ shuddered _ as the old magic came in waves. “One of you will explain.”

Werewolves were not immune.

“We’ll clean that up.” Rabastan’s voice beside him was distant.

Weasley’s eyes were unfocused as he spoke, staring through Lucius. “The Headmaster said talks were falling through because there was no bond. Severus... he assured us the bond could be completed with  _ contact _ . He could arrange it with the Dark Lord.” 

“Enough!” Lupin said and pushed Lucius away from Weasley with a snarl, breaking the thrall. “The alliance cannot move forward without Hermione, the Order  _ needs you _ .”

“Now that Lucius fucked me I am needed. Now that I have the bond, you want it.” Hermione spat with distaste “My friends shunned me because you couldn’t tell them the truth about why I was sick, because all wives of the Dracula line become ill when they reach majority. I was  _ crucio’d _ in the classrooms  _ you  _ taught me in, thinking I would die from some magical malady because of your bartering scheme with a vampire who could hardly remember the name of the  _ great _ Albus Dumbledore.”

Hermione threw some franc’s down on the table, the notes floating, and then absorbing the coffee that had puddled on the table. “Consider this my donation to the Order of the Phoenix. I thought we were family, but I was the token mudblood until my blood was  _ worth _ something for war strategy.”

“Let’s go, my gift.” Lucius said, kissing her on the top of her head, feeling her latent magic simmering against her skin, a current that made his blood sing “It smells bad in here.”

“Vinegar.” She said, hiding her face from the table. “Werewolves.”

Vinegar, Lucius thought, and her tears.

Rabastan was speaking to the waitress, and then the waitress’ memories floated up in front of her eyes before the younger LeStrange brother batted them away like an insect. 

Hermione hurled the sword at the ground and it clattered to the street, skidding across the cobblestones, the red gem catching the streetlights. “I don’t know what I expected.”

Rodolphus picked the sword up and swung it over his shoulder. “Confirmation.”

“Confirmation of what?” She was near tears, hysteria creeping into her voice.

“That your friends are not who you thought they were.” Rodolphus said approaching her, the “I tol-”

“Enough.” Lucius cut him off before he could add fuel to the fire “There is one name that keeps coming up, and that’s Severus Snape. Irregardless of Dumbledore’s club, he put Hermione in danger in hopes I would come by looking for the sword. If the Dark Lord hadn’t-” Lucius went silent and eyed the sword.

“Severus.” Rabastan spoke his thoughts aloud.

He had planned all of it, the sword, the girl, the trip to Saint Mungo’s. Lucius felt his mouth go dry. A pawn in a plan executed flawlessly by the man who was fucking his ex-wife as they spoke. Everything was going to plan, except for Hermione.

“I won’t go back.” Hermione said quietly “I won’t endanger vampires to save England.”

“And your friends?” Rodolphus asked.

Hermione looked up at Lucius “Are here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bitter old men are my kink, thank you very much.


	20. Chapter 20

Rodolphus dropped the sword on the table in the kitchen as the elves scurried to find food for their returned masters. Hermione lightly brushed over the jewel with her thumb, inspecting it for some wisdom before turning to depart, leaving the kitchen in suffocating silence.

Despite her anger, there was a pervasive sadness that hung over the group, stemming from the realizations that one meeting brought. The name of the traitor clouded his thoughts: Severus Snape. Oh, how Lupin had blessed them all with what the _ headmaster _ wanted his Hermione for. Snape wanted everything he had. His women, his wealth, his heir.

He hadn’t wanted Narcissa and yet he felt bitter now that Severus had her. “Severus,” He paused over the name, savoring the distaste.

“Something must be done.” Rabastan said quietly as a plate of sandwiches appeared before him “We cannot risk Hermione. If he can manipulate our Lord, it means she will be unprotected.”

Rodolphus stabbed at a potato briefly “It’s all down to Severus, isn’t it? Can’t we off him?”

Lucius left to find Hermione, unwilling to discuss Severus’ future any longer. His anger abating when he heard her speaking to the elves

“And of Rodolphus?”

“You were right miss, about foods, now he is finishing breakfasts.” Anty said cheerfully “Miss is a good mistress, always carings about friends.”

“A secret meeting?” Lucius asked and all the elves lined up to greet the master of the house from where they were sitting around a red eyed Hermione.

“Not so secret anymore.” Hermione said with a smile “Now you know how the house is run.”

“When I told you I’d give you everything, I didn’t expect you to take everything. Now, what am I to do? Balance accounts?” He sat next to her and the elves busied themselves in tending to the fire.

“I want to help them still.” Hermione said quietly, seriously looking at him “I feel like a fool.”

Lucius gathered his small vampiress, into his arms and they sat together in silence as he contemplated a tactful way to respond to her. Hermione cared. It was a simple truth that in it’s simpleness was hard to swallow. She was, for all her independence, the polar opposite of Narcissa, and he made efforts to  _ act _ the polar opposite of how he had been with Narcissa. No bargains, no jewels for easy way outs or looking the other way. Hermione was his eternity, and eternity had no room for cheap relationships.

“Why?” He asked, stroking her hair, his fingers twining up into the curl and then releasing it, letting it bounce back.

“I can’t sit here and pretend like I don’t care about muggleborns, or magical creatures in England, Lucius.” Hermione turned to him “or my friends.”

A lot of words came to mind when she referred to the Order as friends, but after seeing her and Rodolphus clash time and time again, he remained silent.

“Not Professor Lupin, or Headmaster Dumbledore, but Harry, Ron, and-” She sighed and pulled away from him, but he pulled her back.

“I won’t pretend to understand Gryffindor loyalty.” Lucius began carefully “You have saved my life, you have  _ given _ me eternity. We can fight for queen and country if you so choose, or we...cannot.”

She huffed “I don’t care about queen or country, I care about people like me, kids like me, who deserve something more than to be a mudblood, or the elves, or vampires who file their teeth off so they can spare themselves from the shame of it all.” Hermione looked at him seriously, and he knew that whatever she would ask he could not deny. “I cannot sit in France and pretend to not know the suffering in England.”

Lucius realized that even with immortality, with money, with his name, and his family, he could not give her everything easily. But he would.

“How can I help?”

Her eyes lit up like stars.

* * *

  
Rodolphus made a strangled noise when he told him later that they planned to enter the war. “For the Order?”

“Absolutely not.” Lucius huffed “It’s about ethics.”

“You’re even starting to sound like her.” Rodolphus threw his hands up. “We are  _ bound _ to the half of the war that she hates the most, and the other side has werewolves that will kill you if they transform while you’re nearby, don’t even get me started about Severus  _ fucking _ Snape who has us all running around in circles sucking our own cocks.”

“I’ll do it.” Rabastan said quietly from the couch across from “Do I kill Snape? Lupin?”

“Rabastan!” Rodolphus said shocked “We should-”

“Why?” Rabastan cut his brother off “Why act like you wouldn’t do it? She saved your life too, brother.”

“I am going to do it!” Rodolphus said, peeved at his sibling “There is a bit of a question of  _ how _ that I am trying to work out.  _ How  _ are we going to betray our master?  _ how _ are we going to save England? And  _ how _ are we going to survive Christmas with bloody Dracula?”

“There is the peculiar question of why our esteemed  _ master _ has lost us for a few weeks now without noting our absence or calling us for his usual dinner parties.” Lucius tapped on the wood of his desk and scratched his chin.

“Severus.” Rabastan muttered quietly “It’s him, isn’t it?”

“We need to get rid of the marks. We’re just waiting for Severus to pull us all back with a string at this point.” Rodolphus said.

“Who’s side is he on?” Lucius asked.

“Any side that isn’t yours.” Rodolphus replied and collapsed next to his brother “Ex-husband.”

“Let’s kill him, then!” Rabastan was exasperated when obviously the answer was simple. “Why are we discussing this?”

“If Severus has the Dark Lord’s ear, then I don’t want to know what will happen when he finds out that we are behind his  _ untimely _ disappearance.” Rodolphus shot back.

“We need to become unbound.” Lucius said “It is not tied to life, it is tied to magic, I can still be called even though I ceased to live.”

“So we unbind our magic? I won’t become a squib.” Rodolphus said with a laugh at the ridiculous notion.

“Unbind and then rebind,” Rabastan laid his head back against the couch and stared up at the ceiling “careful enough to release our lord’s magic, careful enough to capture ours.”

Lucius pondered this case and listened to the crackling of fire, trying to catalogue his memories of rituals that would do exactly what Rabastan had in mind, but none came to mind. His first thought was more blood rituals, but the very thought was dangerous, mixing food and magic was not going to end well.

“Technically you can bind  _ some _ of your magic to an object,” Rodolphus said after a long silence “To unbind means to die.”

“Muggles can live without magic.” Rabastan replied.

“I am not a muggle.”

“Nor will you be. For every curse, there is a counter-curse.” Lucius said standing up “For every binding, an unbinding. It is the first step, and then we will be free to act however we wish.”

Lucius wasn’t so sure of his confidence on this, his skills mostly lied in dueling and botany (the latter of which was mostly off the table since sunlight was  _ also _ off the table). The only expert at curses was Rodolphus, and if Rodolphus was leery of the idea of binding magic then it probably was a dangerous task.

Could he live without magic? Could he live bound to his master when Hermione had different ideas? Lucius walked from his study down the hall to their bedroom, the door slightly ajar, candles lit and an elf picking up clothes as Hermione slept, her head on his pillow, her hands clasped in prayer.

He entered and she inhaled, stretching before rolling over, her eyes fluttering open and then shut. “What time is it?”

“Around seven in the morning.” He murmured, bending over the bed to kiss her awake. “You will kill Rodolphus, my gift, every decision you make sends him into a fit of pique.”

“No one promised him a painless death.” Hermione rolled over and opening one eye with a smile “He accepted.”

“Of course he accepted.”

“Because of Rabastan.”

“Because of you.” Lucius began to shrug off his robes “You underestimate your effect on people.”

Hermione sat up. “Do you mean he might be still feeling the effects of the thrall?”

His hands came to his buttons, and her eyes followed his hands, briefly distracted “No one needs to be magically  _ induced _ to like you and help you. Unless, you believe you have even enthralled me.”

“I have you bound in so many oaths Lucius Malfoy, you could hardly do anything but be enthralled by me.” A smile played on her lips “I’ll bind you again, too.”

“What of it?” He said crawling into bed with his vampiress “What if I ask you to bind me again?” He kissed her, smiling against her lips “I’ll encourage you.”

“Tempt me not, Lucius. You will never be able to leave me.” Two hands encircled his wrists and he let her pin his hands down “I bind you, Lucius Malfoy, to always wear shirts with lots of buttons.”

A bark of laughter “Gladly.”

Hermione straddled his torso and pinned his hands above his head. “I bind you, Lucius Malfoy, to always keep your hair exquisitely long, and  _ obnoxiously _ shiny.”

“I detect envy.”

Her nose came to his, their eyes inches apart. “I bind you, Lucius Malfoy, to  _ me _ .”

“Already done.” He kissed her “And I would gladly again.”

This, Lucius decided, was what heaven was like.

* * *

  
A day later, Hermione had looked at them strangely when they had explained they planned to unbind and then  _ re-bind _ their magic, but she nodded without any further explanation and began to move back through the library, trying to find books on binding magic.

Which led them to what they were trying to do now. Rodolphus hovering over Hermione and flicking his wand over and over.  
  
“Flick your wand  _ up _ , it’s in the wrist.” 

“I am flicking” Hermione hissed, annoyed.

“It’s interminat _ a _ not interminata.” Rodolphus tapped the paper

“I am saying it right!” She replied  
  
“This is my brother, don’t mess this up.” Rodolphus said

Rabastan, who was sitting and waiting for the ritual to begin looked peeved “Rodolphus!”

“What?!” Rodolphus, Lucius, and Hermione all looked up at Rabastan.

“Stop hassling her, just get started!” Rabastan squirmed in the seat, exposing his dark mark to the room.

“Will this work?” Hermione asked, picking up the dagger that Lucius had killed her with

“I don’t know.” Rodolphus said, nerves edging onto his voice. “Maybe-”

“Let’s just do it!” Rabastan said standing up, agitated “We’re here, I don’t care if I die!”

“Okay, stop fussing!” Hermione batted away from Rodolphus “I will begin the unbinding and you need to separate the magics. I can  _ interminata _ correctly, so help me Rodolphus!”

Rodolphus made a moue and Lucius glared at him, his worrying would drive anyone mad. “I will assist if there are any issues, if you cannot trust Hermione, you can trust me.” Lucius finally said to put end to any arguments.

“Oho,” Hermione said, poking him “You don’t trust me to not turn Rab into a squib? I’ll be glad to turn you instead.”

“Not that, it’s just-”

“Dangerous?” Hermione asked “I am no stranger.”

Rabastan came up to Rodolphus and put his hand on his arm, the dark mark prominent in the firelight. “I trust Hermione, she has saved us before, and I trust you.”

Two bowls sat on the table, to bind to inanimate objects is easier than magical objects such as portraiture or living beings. This was something Rodolphus had done before for magical family portraits, so he said it would not be too terribly difficult.

Rabastan settled himself on the table in front of Hermione and she held his hands in her own briefly before picking up the ceremonial dagger, crossing his palm and then placing the bowl in his hand to mark the bowl with his signature, and then Hermione picked up her wand, holding his hand, their fingers laced while he held the bowl in the other and with a flick of the wrist she swished her wand  _ “Interminata _ .”

Rabastan squeezed her hand, gritting his teeth as his magic left his body, a whimper came from him as he tried to bear it for her sake, and Hermione’s hand was turning blue as he squeezed it. 

The transference took ages, and Rabastan collapsed forward onto Hermione, holding the bowl that was now warping the air around it with magic.   
  
“Okay, okay.” Hermione breathed, trying to calm Rabastan.

Panic seeped in, he could taste the tang in the air. Hermione clearly  _ wasn’t _ okay and Lucius stepped forward to comfort her, and he saw in the hand holding the bowl, the forearm was exposed and the mark was gone.

“We’re going to stun you,” Hermione soothed “In hopes that it will make the binding take, the closer you are to inanimate, the easier it becomes. When you wake up, the magic will return.”

Rabastan mumbled something to her and her eyes widened and she pressed her hand into his hair, hugging him closer before kissing him on his forehead. “I know,” was her response.

“Stupefy.” She whispered, holding him close as his body went still. “Lucius, help me get him onto the floor, don’t move the bowl, I don’t know if it’s stable.”

“It’s stable, it’s the blood, not the connection.” Rodolphus grumbled as they laid his younger brother out. “Are you prepared?” He asked Hermione and she looked petrified, but Hermione turned to Lucius, and he nodded.

She turned back to Rodolphus “I can do it.”

With Lucius’ support, Hermione could do anything.

Rodolphus leaned over his brother’s prone form and kissed him on the forehead “Trust us.”

Rabastan closed his eyes in affirmation.

Rodolphus looked at Hermione seriously and she nodded and he began the complicated wand movements that are often used to bind magic to magical paintings, artful in their display and intent.

The bowl cracked, and then Hermione watched him dissect the magic in the air, shimmering like hot oil in a pan, and in turn made a motion for Hermione, the bowl began to fall apart as the magic vibrated the very ceramic and Lucius cast a sticking charm, followed by a reparo, and another and another conducting an invisible symphony to keep the bowl intact for the magic to stick.

Rodolphus swept his wand downward and the air seemed to disappear from the room. None of them breathed, the bowl stilled.

“Unpetrify him, love.” Rodolphus said quietly.

“ _ Ennerverate _ .”

Rabastan inhaled and looked down at his arm that was gloriously bare, he held his hand up to his eyes, trying to find some trace of magic in his palms.

“Well?” Lucius asked.

“ _ Lumos _ .”

The room was blindingly white and Hermione relaxed into Lucius. “We did it.”

When the light faded, the four of them looked down at the bowl that held the Dark Lord’s magic.

Lucius rolled up his sleeve, eager to erase his past “Next?”  
  


* * *

  
Hermione flipped the invitation over and over in her hands as the elves packed her belongings. It was a week before the solstice, and only a few days since they experienced the dizzying joy of freedom. “We will portkey there,” Lucius assured her as he studied two sets of dress robes seriously “We will spend a week there, and then Christmas here, as you requested.”

“It feels wrong,” Hermione said and looked up at him from the envelope “As all things involving your extended family.”

“Whatever comes to pass, no harm will come to you. I am sworn to protect you.” Lucius said holding up the black velvet robes and then tossing them aside. “Rodolphus and Rabastan as well.”

“We protect each other, but that does not make it any easier to leave France, to go to a castle of a vampire who is far powerful than anyone else we have ever met.”

“And yet he favors you.” Lucius didn’t see the reason to fear someone who liked you.

“I would rather not be favored by anyone with that much power, people who like you can easily dislike you.” Hermione sighed and looked at him “The Dark Lord favored people, Dumbledore favored people, for once, I’d rather us not to be known by any lords.”

To be known, Lucius decided, meant to be at risk. Hermione had a point, he constantly traded one master for the next, the sire, the Dark Lord, Narcissa, his father. In the brief few months away from the war he hadn’t realized how much he was suffering until he simply wasn’t.

“I understand,” He said finally, “We are not bound, there is nothing keeping us there, or nothing forcing us into going.” 

“I want to go, but-”

“Cautiously.” Lucius came to her and tilted her head up “My gift, I will listen to your instincts on this, it has not led us wrong, but perhaps the library at the castle may have some answers to your ethical blood dilemmas.”

Her eyes fluttered shut and he kissed her gently, feeling his fangs nip at her lower lip, causing her to gasp, just enough for his tongue to meet hers.

“Why are you two  _ always  _ at it?” Rodolphus voice caused him to still.

“Why are you always waltzing into my rooms as if you are lord of the manor?”  
  
Hermione grabbed the front of his robes and kissed him again turning to Rodolphus who was now facing the hallway. “Voyeur.”

“Are you ready for the binding? The portkey activates at 2:30 and it’s 2 now.” Rodolphus chose to ignore it, causing Lucius' temper to flare

Lucius grabbed Rodolphus’ wrist, Hermione’s blood still on his lips and pulled Rodolphus near to him “Are you eager for Hermione to turn you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Rodolphus replied “Whether you, or Hermione, it doesn’t matter.”

Lucius’ eyes widened and studied Rodolphus briefly searching for some hint of a lie and found none. He narrowed his eyes and brought his lips to Rodolphus wrist, to goad him, but when there was no flinching, and no pulling back, and Lucius bit into the skin.

It was not Rodolphus who gasped, but Hermione as he withdrew blood from his friend, the sweet taste coating his tongue, mingling with Hermione’s and when he released his wrist from his mouth, the blood dripping down his arm in rivulets, his best friend’s eyes remained glassy.

“Is it that you covet Hermione, or that you covet our vampirism?” Lucius asked, but Rodolphus didn’t respond.

“Give him instructions,” Hermione breathed and he turned his attention away from his best friend to his mate, studying her flushed countenance and wondering what emotion she was feeling

“Your will is your own.” Lucius said and released his wrist, unsure even of the emotions he was feeling.

“Finally,” Rodolphus said, unphased “Let’s get going.”

“You shouldn’t tease, Lucius.” Hermione said as Rodolphus left the room, the elves stacking their luggage neatly at the foot of the bed.

“Him?”  
  
Hermione flushed scarlet and looked away “Me.”

* * *

  
Rabastan’s transition from free man to thrall was uneventful, Hermione bit him while they waited for their luggage in the foyer. He thanked her in that stiff Rabastan way that made Hermione smile and they chatted about some potion journal they had read earlier, but it was still Rodolphus’ actions earlier that made Lucius think.

Hermione was a simple love, written into his blood from his birth and her own, there were no complications with her, save for her ethical dilemmas, the feeding troubles, and the fact that she went through conditioner at an alarming rate. 

Rodolphus was his best friend, a friend that asked for nothing, and sat with him in Azkaban, rowed the boat with him when they were broken free two years prior. He had feelings for Rodolphus, kinship, kindness, and a brotherhood (or as close as Lucius understood brotherhood as an only child.) To bite him was a kind of intimacy Lucius did not expect for them to share, and a kind of intimacy that Lucius had never thought about. He did not bite his victims, only extracted blood from them, and he couldn’t imagine biting someone he didn’t know because there was a moment of connection that he could not get out of his head.

Hermione stepped forward with the portkey they had acquired for the castle in Romania, a small blue porcelain dinner plate, and they all grabbed on as Hermione cast a tempus with her free hand. 2:29.

Rodolphus leaned close to Lucius, his hot breath tickling his ear “ _ Both _ .”  
  
Lucius turned to reply but the plate glowed.  There was a tugging motion as they portkey activated and the group disappeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are moving a bit faster because this is all due on the 20th of January for the gift exchange, but I am not really ready for it! I have the rest of the plot outlined and we have to get thru the Dracula party on the Winter Solstice before we end this portion of Lucius and Hermione's lives. 
> 
> Even if this is hinting at M/M, (or F/M/M my answer to all things), there won't be any in this, even when I write threesomes keeping track of all the "he's" in a sex scene is hard enough. I am 100% for close male friendships portrayed in a healthy way (as in all of my fics).
> 
> I will continue to update, there's really not much left until the end, sorry to submit a WIP for the gift exchange, I hope my giftee forgives me.


	21. Chapter 21

Lucius landed and, as with all international portkey travel, took a moment to gather himself as Hermione gagged and doubled over. Rabastan soothing her back and pulling her hair away from her face in case she got sick.

The weather was absolute freezing, and a warming charm fell over all of them as Dracula’s castle loomed over the group. Snow blanketed the ground and the trees that dotted the countryside.

“Master Dracula is waiting,” An old man said suddenly and Hermione recoiled into Rabastan. “Apologies to the wife of the last of our line.”

“No apologies, you just frightened me.” Hermione’s voice sounded strained and Lucius came to her side.

“Alright?”

“Portkey travel makes me sick.” Hermione complained as they all started up the winding dark path through the countryside up to the castle, it’s spires slicing into the half moon that was high in the sky. 

Lucius anger towards Rodolphus was abated by Hermione’s need, one hand over her mouth, another on his bicep as they continued the walk.  _ Both _ ? He wanted to turn in a vampire in order to steal his mate? A sip of her kindness and now Rodolphus was addicted as much as Lucius.

“Let’s stop,” Rabastan said quickly seeing Hermione who was now turning green “A moment.”

“It is cold, sir.” The old man pulled his cloaks around him tighter, almost disappearing into the fabric.

"And you can wait, _sir_." Rodolphus said, annoyed that anyone could think they took priority over Hermione.

A tree was transfigured and Rabastan withdrew a vial with a thick pink liquid, and Hermione’s eyes lit up.

“For portkey sickness?”

“You mentioned it.” Rabastan waved her off as if it was nothing.

Lucius studied Rodolphus in the moonlight but still could find nothing to say to him, and Rodolphus was studying the castle. He looked away from his potential rival to Hermione who was now staring at him, her head tilted sideways in confusion, an empty vial between her fingers as they waited for her sickness to pass.

“The son of our Lord has not been home for many years, not since I began service.” The old man said to Lucius who was distracted from his mate’s searching eyes. “Our lord has felt his absence acutely. He went to France to retrieve you.”

“Not far enough to England, though.” Lucius replied.

“Our Lord does not leave the continent, it is not good for his health.” The old man began to walk, seeing as Hermione had stood and she rushed up to him.

“Running water, I thought you  _ read _ the books I gave you.” She said quietly.

“We can return to England, I have done so myself.” Lucius shot back.

“Freshly turned, and not...wholly turned, if I am correct, you have not killed another.” The old man said, not to them, but to the castle “I have seen many, but your sins will not last long.”

“I have killed.” Lucius said quietly, fearing Hermione’s judgement more than the old man who was leading them to his ancestral home.

“Oh, perhaps you have killed in a past life, but not this one.” The old man sounded doubtful and the rest of the walk was silent.

Hermione seemed to be cataloguing the surroundings, the trees, the path in the snow, the placement of the moon. Her eyes caught all, including the tension between him and Rodolphus. Rabastan, on the other-hand, after ten minutes or so in silence, began to chit-chat with Hermione about the trees and some potion’s ingredients he would collect, and the rest of the walk up to the castle was passed in amiable discussion led by Hermione.

The castle loomed over them, the dark stone blocking out any moonlight, and they stepped not in through the towering main doors, made out of gnarled and twisted wood an iron, but a side door for servants.

“Our Lord says the wife does not wish to mingle with others immediately.” The old man explained as they walked through the kitchen, pitchers of blood lined up like wine. “Our Lord has said the wife’s comfort comes first.”

“I have a name.” Hermione said, annoyed at being reduced to a title.

“To be the wife of our Lord’s only heir is an  _ honor _ , I would not dare to refer to you on familiar terms.”

  
Here, Hermione rolled her eyes and went silent as they four of them were led up into a sitting room, far away from others, and the castle’s silence was oppressive. The room was warm in both the decor and air, a roaring fire (something Dracula also seemed to know Hermione liked) and another stack of books sitting beside it on a rich mahogany table. 

Hermione sat, and Lucius tried to ignore Rodolphus, and they waited in pained silence for the lord of the castle to arrive.  
  


* * *

  
Dracula tended to stare at Hermione more than Lucius, which Lucius hated more than anything because he felt as if everyone wanted his mate equally as much as he did. First Rodolphus, and now Dracula. Hermione was staring, very pointedly, at the rug, her eyes tracing the floral patterns that were a dull brownish-gold due to wear.

Dracula did not speak, as all ancient beings probably cared little about small talk, and Lucius’ mind was preoccupied with thoughts of how best to strangle Rodolphus.

“It is strange, Hermione, that you chose two thralls so quickly.”

“They are not thralls, they are friends under my protection.” Hermione replied quietly, annoyed at the concept of a thrall, after all, it was not ethical.

“You wish to protect a lot, I can see.” Dracula’s voice had an eastern European lilt to it that gave him an exotic air. “That is why you are silent tonight.”

“My friends are suffering in England, and I am here dining with you.” She sighed and looked up at Dracula finally, the mood seemed to lighten, Dracula must be pleased that she had decided to look at him as only his magic could account for the mood. “I cannot relax knowing that they might die because of me.”

“You are friends with the half-man that asked my assistance? Do you wish to lend him your assistance?”

Hermione fidgeted “No,” She relented “Not him, just others.”

“Hermione,” Dracula caressed her name “My line has had many wives, but you are closest to my own. Tirelessly caring.” He trailed off into silence “This is why I care so much for you, my daughter.”

Dracula said nothing for a spell, and Lucius ventured nothing, waiting for the great lord of vampires to speak.

“She cared for humans, all wives  _ are _ human when they start, it allows them to bear children, but humans did not care for a woman so learned, a woman who knew medicines that man did not know, and my very presence in her life poisoned her to others. This was a disease no man could stand, and even she could not rid herself of. Men decided to rid the world of my wife, to burn her, and in that tradition they burn every wife of my line.”

Lucius' eyes snapped to Hermione who seemed to tense up, her hands clasped in her lap.

“Tradition?” Lucius asked.

“There is infighting in England between men, but there is no infighting at the church, I worry for you, my daughter, if anything is to harm you, all of us will suffer.”

“I cannot ignore it, Lord Dracula.” Hermione said firmly.

“Then we shall not.” He said with finality “You remind me so much of her, I cannot deny you.”

Lucius was worried that Hermione reminded Dracula _too_ much of what was once lost. “We will join the war in England?” Rodolphus finally ventured.

“We will end it, yes.” Dracula said “As Hermione wishes, and in other wishes, there is a library for you to attend, and then our caretakers will show you to your room.” Dracula stood up and stared at the fire before turning to leave.

“Lord Dracula,” Hermione said quietly “Thank you for this.”

“It has been two hundred years since I met the last wife.” Dracula said as he moved towards the door, his hand resting on the door frame. “Two hundred years wasted.”

The old man who had led them to the castle reappeared a few minutes after Dracula departed, and the four of them walked down the cavernous hallways in silence. Hermione clearly was rattled because she turned to look at him every few moments, but Lucius could offer her no comfort. They passed no portraits or other living creatures despite the vastness of the castle, and Lucius suddenly understood Hermione’s need for smaller spaces. The air was suffocating.

The library was bigger than anything he had seen in his short life, Hogwarts library was maybe half the size, but despite it Hermione did not move towards it, her eyes gravitated towards a small sitting area and she sat, exhausted, her face in her hands.

Bravery departed, and Hermione let out a sigh, her voice muffled by her hands. “I want to go home.”

Lucius rubbed her back, unsure of how to get rid of this feeling of dread that was settling in him. The longer they stayed with his sire, the more danger they seemed to be in.  
  


* * *

  
Did Rodolphus love her? Did he love her more than he did? Lucius stared at a painting of Dracula’s wife, a beautiful blonde woman that was holding a small blonde babe. Dracula’s eyes were painted looking towards his wife, and not the artist. The painting did not move.

“What is going on with you and Rodolphus?” Hermione asked beside him. They were out in the hallway near their bedrooms “Is it because of the protection?”

They both stood in front of the painting that was double his size, hanging up in the hallway, illuminated by wall sconces.

“He desires you.”

“Nonsense.” Hermione waved him off “He just likes to wind you up. Rodolphus cares for me, to be sure, but to desire me? How can he? We are bonded.”

“It won’t prohibit him from desiring you, you are perfection, how can he not?”

Hermione smiled at the compliment, tapping her lips as they stared at the painting before them “Perhaps he desires you?”

“No.”

Hermione laughed at how quickly he responded but Lucius was pretty sure that Rodolphus only had taste for women. Pretty sure. Absolutely sure. 70% sure. He paled and Hermione laughed again. “Are you really so blind towards your friends, Lucius?”

“Nonsense.” He felt vulnerable next to her and turned away from the paintings. “He’s _not_ a...well he’s not.”  
  
“You are right, but he cares for you, more than I think _you_ are comfortable with.” Hermione shot back “Who else but the LeStrange’s would follow you here? To Romania, in winter, to meet with a man who could, and has the ability to enthrall and kill them.”

He looked down at his mate, her curly hair tamed back into a neat braid, her red dress was loose, giving the appearance of a nightgown. She looked so small to him, her nose upturned and a smile playing at her lips. “It’s not me he cares so deeply for. It has to be you.”  
  
“What is the alternative?” Hermione walked back into their room “It is not hard to care for you, you are easy to care for when you are not trying to outpace the Dark Lord. Why is it so terrible that you have friends?”

“I don’t have friends, not like that.” Lucius followed her back into the overly ornate and vast bedroom. “It’s  _ different _ .”

“It doesn’t have to be.” She turned to face him again “Rodolphus may care for me, and I am plenty sure Rabastan does, but we are friends, this is what friends do.”

“You care too easily.”

Hermione stepped towards him “A trait, I daresay you adore.”

He wanted her, he wanted to prove to her that it was  _ he _ who was her mate, not another man. He leaned down to kiss her, his hair brushing against her face as their mouths met. Hermione stifled a gasp her hands coming up to his arms to brace herself against him, but he couldn’t get it out of his mind. She was  _ his _ .

No one could take her away, so many things were taken from him so easily, an heir, a wife, his English estate, his freedom, his heritage. He picked her up, their lips still locked, and pressed her against the wall, which caused her to whimper as she wrapped her legs around his waist.

“You’re mine, Hermione,  _ mine _ .” He growled “Not Rodolphus’ to paw at.”

She let out a low chuckle, her fingers curling up into his hair, tugging gently to tilt his head up, he hadn’t realized he was breathing heavily, their eyes met and there was a certain playfulness and fire that was everything Lucius had wanted in a woman. 

When she smiled, her two fangs peeked through. “Show me.” Her legs tightened around his waist and he felt her heat press up against him and his cock roared to life, pressing painfully against these god forsaken trousers that he wished he wasn’t wearing.

“Does Rodolphus make you wet, my gift?” He asked, pulling her robes off, a starving man “Does he make you whimper and beg, my love?”

Hermione’s fingers pulled his hair back, exposing his neck, another thing he only allowed for her, his hair was his most precious asset, and therefore generally he let no one touch it. She nipped at his throat, her fangs grazing against taut skin “I liked watching you bite him, maybe he does.”

He dress slid up her thighs, exposing the black silk underwear to him and he pressed her further into the wall, watching the bulge in his pants met the soft wetness between her legs. “I’ll make you forget his name.”

She bit him, that lust fogged his brain as she withdrew her fangs, an instant of heaven and then an apology. It was too much for him, this would be no slow coupling.

He reached between their bodies and freed his erection, watching the purplish head slid up her slit as he bucked against her. Hermione arched her body up into his, softness melting into him as her beautiful perky breasts pressed against him and he was gone. How could he have fucked anything other than this? A responsive hellcat that met his every desire, whose very body was his idea of lust, his mate, his Hermione. 

“Tell me you’re mine.” He demanded of her, leaning towards her, his hair curtaining his face as he licked the swell of her breast up to her collarbone. “Give yourself to me Hermione.”

He pushed her panties aside, skin on skin as he slid up against her wet skin. “I already have.” She moaned and bucked up against him as the head of his cock met her swollen nub.

“Again.”

“Lucius.” It came out as a whine, but he bit her then, his teeth sinking into the soft skin just above her collarbone and Hermione went slack against him as he slid up into her, her whole body shaking as her walls contracted. 

Her blood tasted like honey, he lapped at it eagerly, letting it well up on her skin so he could lick it from her instead of sucking it from her wounds. His. His. His. Made for him, given to him by the gods themselves.

“Yours.” She gasped squirming as he withdrew from her, “Yours, oh  _ god _ Lucius.” 

“Again,  _ give it all to me _ .”

He had never fucked Hermione, he made love to her, worshipped her, but perhaps this time, up against the stone walls of Dracula’s castle, was the first time he had fucked her, his hips snapped to hers, drawn by desire, fueled by his envy of her  _ stupid _ relationship with Rodolphus.

“More.” She demanded as her hips began to meet his, her hands sliding down from his hair, cupping his face and bringing it to hers.

He kissed her, his fangs biting gently on her lips to bring out that taste of honey in her kiss and he braced himself against the wall, enjoying the way her body squirmed when he sheathed himself completely inside of her, and the moans she made when he left.

“I’ll fill you completely, I’ll fuck you until you’re pregnant with my sons. There won’t be an inch of you left that I don’t own, Hermione, my Hermione.” Lucius felt her walls shudder around his cock and moaned her name again, her fingers twisting into the fabric of his robes “No one will love you the way I do.”

“I know,” She seemed to beg. “Lucius, please, again.” 

He knew without her specifying, he could feel the way her body called out to him that she wanted to come, and he would push them over together. He controlled everything, and as he nosed her neck, causing her to tilt her head, he could only smile against his skin.

“Tell me, my love, who you belong to?”

“You, Lucius.”

The way she said his name made his cock throb painfully inside of her. 

“Beg for me, my gift.”

“Please, I need-”

“I know what you need, Hermione.” He growled and his teeth pierced her skin easily, the taste of honey filled his mouth as her slick cunt clamped down around his cock and he thrust wildly into her until he felt his balls tighten up into his body and he could not hold back any longer.

“Mine,  _ Mine _ .” He growled, blood leaking out from her wound, trailing down her pale skin as he filled her with his semen. 

She kissed his forehead, and then his face, and then anything she could get as she smiled. That warmth that only came from a sated mate. “Yours, always yours, how could you doubt it? You were made for me.”

When they laid in bed together he felt her hold his hand and turn over to look at him. “Lucius,” She said, the vastness of the room driving them close together in the oversized bed.

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, my gift.”  
  
She dozed peacefully, and Lucius kept watch until eventually the comfort of her lulled him to sleep as well.

* * *

  
Hermione’s eyes snapped open and she sat up “Something’s wrong with Rabastan.”

Lucius, rolled over bleary eyed to see what she was talking about but she was already out of bed, rushing in a flurry of robes out the door of the bedroom and as soon as he was awake enough to understand where she was going, she was gone.

He sat up in the silence of the vast room, and slid on slippers and a robe and followed after her, catching only a glimpse of her in the darkness of the long hallways of the castle and after a few moments of that oppressive humming silence of Dracula’s castle.

Then, a scream from Hermione and a flash of red light from the foyer and his walk turned into a run as he turned upon a furious witch with her wand outstretched, hugging an unconscious Rabastan.

“He is  _ mine _ .” Hermione hissed “He is marked!”

“And?” Another voice “Where else was I to find food, but the kitchens.”

“ _ Etienne _ .” Lucius’ voice was deadly, a velvet tone that he never used around his mate. A warning to those who knew them. “Good to see you again.”

Hermione was rummaging around inside Rabastan’s robes until he could hear the familiar tinkling of glass against glass. Potions.

“Cousin! Your mate has turned you.” Etienne still had Rabastan’s blood on his lips and Hermione uncorked a blood replenisher with her teeth.

“I have turned, and I have not forgotten what you have done to my gift.” Lucius withdrew his wand fluidly and the room glowed red as he issued a silent  _ crucio.  _ Etienne, unexpectedly, dropped to the floor.

“Have you touched any others,  _ cousin, _ that are under my protection?”

A howl of pain was the response and Lucius released the curse to hear Hermione repeating Rabastan’s name over and over again, his head in her hands. He could see the bite mark clearly from here at the juncture of the shoulder and his neck, the blood still wet and fragrant.

A gasp of air, not from Etienne, but of Rabastan as he awoke. Hermione let out a small cry and then “Where is Rodolphus? Is he safe?” She asked frantically, knowing one brother's location but not the other's.

“Answer her.” Lucius leveled his wand on the vampire that was currently cowering before him.

Etienne's answer was the wrong one: “Who?”

_ “Incarcerous _ .” Hermione held Rabastan with one arm and spelled with her other, and with a flick of her wand the ropes tightened around Etienne, and then another flick, tighter, another,  _ tighter _ . “You will tell me the truth, or I shall squeeze you until every ounce of blood you stole from what was mine is on this floor.”

“Not yet, not yet, in the kitchens.” It came out in one word and Hermione stopped pulling on the bindings, moving her gaze to Lucius who knew that whatever ill will he had with the eldest LeStrange had to be put aside.

He opened the door to see many caretakers, maids, cooks all crowded around the unconscious body of Rodolphus who was laying face down near a deep sink. His presence was noted immediately and everyone turned to face him. “Master Lucius,” The room said at once and all bowed.

Knew him enough to respect him, not enough to protect Rodolphus, apparently. They ignored the body even as Lucius knelt down to roll his best friend over. Rodolphus was not a handsome man, he had aged considerably, just as Lucius had, but he suddenly felt ridiculous to think he was competing with anyone for Hermione. Rodolphus was his best friend, his _only_ friend these days.

_ “Enneverate _ .”

A gasp of air and Rodolphus sat up, almost hitting Lucius in the process. His first word came out rough “Rabastan?”

“Safe.”

“Fuck. We hadn’t eaten.” Rodolphus suddenly looked guilty, for coming down here unprotected. “He took Rabastan!”

“And bit him. Come, are you well?” Lucius extended his hand and stood up.

“Hit in the head.” Rodolphus rubbed the back of his hair and pulled his hand away to look at blood, one of the servants could be heard whispering. Rodolphus placed his hand in Lucius' and the blonde marveled at how  _ warm _ the touch of a human was.

In the main hall Hermione was getting Rabastan to a stand, his wounds healed, but he looked pale in the firelight of the castle. She was juggling some more vials in her free hand as a comically tall Rabastan leaned on his small mate for support, her head coming up to his chest. 

“You’re alright!” Hermione said and grunted as Rabastan steadied himself on her again, his head hanging forward, his hair covering his face.

“Better than him, at least.” Rodolphus gestured to a bound Etienne who had fallen over on his back and had his knees in the air. “And you, Rab?”

“Alive.” Rabastan mumbled “Hermione came quickly, and a  _ cruciatus _ came quickly after.”

“I thought you were unconscious.” She said, her face growing red at being caught for using forbidden magic. “I didn’t realize-”

“It was an interesting sight.” Rabastan laid his chin on her head and Hermione squirmed. “One I will remember, as it is the first cruciatus broken when the caster tripped down a staircase.”

“You’re feeling better, get off of me.” Hermione squirmed underneath him, pushing him aside, but Rabastan held onto her tighter. "Rabastan!"

Awkwardness dispersed as Lucius extended his apology to Rodolphus, by helping them back up to their suite of rooms.

The four of them slept in the same bed, leaving Etienne bound in the foyer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jealous Lucius, also welcome back Etienne.
> 
> Thank you for your reviews! It is giving me energy.


	22. Chapter 22

Dracula found them in the kitchens the next day, Hermione’s eyes never strayed too far away from Rabastan as she played with the empty goblet that contained breakfast, which, in itself had posed a dilemma that was easily remedied by a willing Rodolphus who donated his blood.

She was flipping through the morning news from England with Lucius at the large wooden table that sat in the middle of the kitchen, maids and chefs going hither and thither while Rodolphus read some mail that had been delivered somehow all the way from Romania (this proved later to be a missive from Draco about the lack of  _ comforts _ at Le Vescient.) 

The kitchens were warm and enclosed, brickwork and worn wood giving an intimate atmosphere as human beings, not vampires, kept company, sometimes in awe that the only descendent of their master would seek to spend time in the kitchens with the lowest of people. He knew why Hermione chose this place, it had  _ life _ buzzing in the air, the closeness forced all the oppressive atmosphere out, leaving only comfort.

“Where?” A voice was heard outside the swinging wood door the led to the foyer “Where is she?”

“Enough, Cetra.” Dracula’s voice vibrated the very magic in the brickwork and Hermione looked up from the paper towards the door, the servants began to organize themselves neatly at the end of the kitchens in three rows: chefs, maids, manservants. “Your son often deserves his punishment.”

The door swung open and Dracula, who was not looking into the kitchens, but behind him. “Come, speak to her.”

Hermione didn’t move to stand, and there was a chorus of “Good Morning, Lord Dracula.” 

Cetra appeared in a blaze of anger that matched her red dress, impossibly small for being morning wear. Hermione, in contrast, was in Lucius’ shirt and a pair of muggle pants she called “geens” or something. Lucius did not care what they were called as long as he could walk behind her when she wore them.

“Hiding with the servants?” Cetra asked “After you cursed my child, you think that humans could protect you?”

“I restrained him, but I did not curse him.” Hermione said, a lie, turning her attention back to the paper, even as she tried to sound nonchalant, her voice wavered and Lucius ran his hand down through her hair, and along her spine. Small comforts.

“I cursed him.” Lucius said “He attacked Rodolphus, and drank from Rabastan, both under our protection, a fact which he  _ knew _ . He also attacked my mate, she still bears his mark. Do you think that there is not precedent to attack him? He is a fool.”

“Etienne is young.” Cetra parried, as if youth was an exception.

“And Hermione is younger!” Lucius snapped, turning away finally from the paper “If you cannot control your child, others must.”

Dracula was suddenly beside Hermione, peering at what she was reading at, Rabastan and Rodolphus edged away from the table. “Is Etienne harmed?”

“No.” Cetra made a moue of distaste, realizing she would get no revenge.

“Then what is this?” Dracula asked “Ego?”

“Lord Dracula!” Cetra seemed shocked “You were the one who found him, I deserve retribution.”

“Not in this kitchen, and not today. Etienne is foolish, if a dog keeps biting, then you have to train the dog.”

“If the dog keeps biting, eventually the dog is put down.” Rodolphus murmured and Hermione’s eyes snapped up in warning and Lucius bristled, wondering if Dracula would take revenge on Rodolphus for his biting remarks.

There was nothing but silence for a few moments, and then finally, Cetra turned to leave and Dracula, whose very presence made the air suffocating, bent down to read an article on the Muggleborn Registration Committee that Hermione was interrupted reading.

“Your people?” Dracula asked.

“Not anymore.” Hermione said turning to face Dracula. “But I still feel responsible.”

“The half-man? Is he your people also?”

“Headmaster Dumbledore? Not anymore,” Hermione hid her face from everyone, staring at the paper intently “But I still feel responsible.”

“It is heavy, to shoulder all these burdens.” Dracula’s voice sounded distant. “And you are so young.” He said, as if youth was the exception.

There was a patter of water on newsprint, Hermione hid her face in her hands and Lucius pulled her close.

He wanted to go home.  
  


* * *

  
On the evening of the ball, Hermione could be found with the LeStrange brothers, and Lucius was now walking through an upper corridor with his ancestor alone. “How much do you know of your family, Lucius?”

“Up until two months ago, I believed vampirism was a curse.” He admitted, feeling a pang of embarrassment to admit something some ridiculous to Dracula.

Dracula opened up a small door into a book crowded study, it had the same warmth that Hermione often sought, plush leather couches, paintings of ancestors everywhere, here there were only magical paintings, not the stills in the main hall. Christienne and Artelus hung off on a far wall behind a piano, his ancestor lit up in happiness at seeing Lucius.

“Your wife likes small places.” Dracula said “This is a family trait in of itself, I also prefer smaller rooms.”

“She finds a majority of the castle uncomfortable.”

“She feels there are enemies here, and she would be correct.” Dracula said sitting down “Wives are empathetic, but the two humans you brought are enthralled completely to her. No harm will come her way, even if she does not realize it.”

Lucius settled into a plush couch and the fire blazed to life. “Before my time, there was no such thing as wives, wives are the curse of the Tepes line.” Dracula began as a servant entered with a water pitcher filled with cooled blood, it flowed like syrup “This is the curse of our line, to only have one.”

“Who cursed our line?”

“A mage by the name of Silivius imprisoned me and bound my blood to  _ monogamy _ but to be bound once, and never again is a curse on eternal life. One that I did not understand the ramifications of until they burned Lisa.”

“Your wife.”

“And the reason your hair is blonde,” Dracula smiled at this, it chilled Lucius. “All my ancestors were blonde to honor their mother. The church is not non-magical, my son. They possess a magic older than your sticks, they know beings older than you and I, and can call upon them at will. Of these beings I have only known one, a fire being with no name or form.”

“Impossible, there is no knowledge of this in England. The church is muggle fantasies.”

“In England, there are pagans, on the continent, there is Rome, and Rome, knowing of the curse of Silvius, send their being after the wives. It is easy to kill a wife, it is harder to kill a vampire. My sons, of course, tend to take care of the church’s work for them. It is, unbearably lonely, being alive knowing that one dawn can reunite me with Lisa.”

“You have stayed alive,” Lucius said “Even though your wife was killed.”

“Family is the most important thing to me.”

“And I.”

“Then you know why I am here with you, and not dust. Arctaeus was the most sensitive boy I had raised, Christienne, his mother, was French and coddled him endlessly, and when he found his wife, the whole world rejoiced with him, and when he lost her to the church, the world mourned. There was nothing denied to him, impossibly popular and charming, to have the most important thing denied to him drove him mad.”

Dracula paused and sipped at the blood, staring into the fire for a bit, letting the memories wash over him and Lucius dared not to move, afraid to break his reverie. There was something ominous about Lord Dracula, some darkness that he feared would come to the surface in this small room.

“His child was your father, Abraxas, he watched Arcateus take his own life by dawn, it changed everything. Endless crying, I have never seen a six year old so inconsolable. Christienne asked to quit the continent, but Arctaeus could not follow. In her desperation to leave the sight of the church, they changed their name, Arctaeus is, and always has been a bit  _ dramatic _ and so Christienne’s papers into England read  _ Malfoy _ to antagonize the church, and it worked. They hunted her down in England like an animal, and now my son of many generations past comes back to me, telling me his vampirism is a curse.”

“It was my ignorance.” Lucius ventured.

“If you had died before your wife had found you, if you had taken your life as Arcateus told me you had planned, I would have no family-” Dracula paused “-I would have perished.”

“Cetra and Louis are family surely.” Lucius protested, realizing the gravity of Hermione’s decision to allow him to take her was far larger than just cherished kisses and easy love.

“Every vampire wishes to be related to me, no matter how distant their bloodline is, sisters of sisters of brothers of my line.” Dracula waved this off and looked at Lucius expectantly “You are my son, there is no denying our connection, because after two hundred years, you came back to me.”

“Hermione.”

“The portraits tell me what they can of her, but to meet her, it’s like holding a small bird for the first time, and yet she is sad.” Dracula refilled his goblet, Lucius could not take his eyes away from the blood. “It is my fault that she feels so poorly, in a castle with enemies. It is why we will fix the situation in England.”

“You make this sound easy.”

“Everything is easy when you are a Tepes, if she is uneasy, it will be hard for her to bear an heir.”  
  
“Don’t let her hear you talk of her this way,” Lucius said, a bit peeved that he had reduced his intelligent, brave, warrior mate to some essential biological function. “I’d fear for your life.”

Dracula smiled. “At last, I feel as if life is something to fear  _ for _ , because my family has returned.”

Lucius averted his eyes, afraid that for some reason Dracula’s smile would petrify him. It was an unusual fear, but not unfounded, when powerful people smiled at Lucius, many times he paid dearly, in coin, or in  _ cruciatus _ .   
  


* * *

  
“I don’t want your assistance.” Hermione’s voice rang clear as Lucius walked down the cavernous halls towards her bedroom “I have plenty of people to assist me, and I certainly don’t want  _ these _ they are obscene.”

“Take them back, and do not bother her, or I will make sure you crawl back to your quarters.” Rodolphus’ voice was firm.

“Rodolphus!” A cry “We won’t harm you, thank Cetra for her  _ kindness _ .” The last word was stressed in such a manner that it could only be sarcasm. “Oh! Lucius, thank merlin.”

“What is this?” Lucius asked peering at the opened box to see a white dress folded neatly “Does your mistress think I cannot afford to clothe my wife?”

“No sir.” The two maids backed away from the door and the box suddenly caught on fire, causing the maids to drop it with a scream.

“Forget this hallway existed.” Rabastan said from behind Hermione, brandishing his wand. “ _ Never _ bother her again.”

“Rabastan! Merlin,” Hermione turned around and pushed him back into their bedroom “I am going to catch  _ your _ robes on fire.”

Lucius doused the fire and the maids scurried away with fast feet, not daring to look back at the scene they had left. Rodolphus turned his body to allow him entrance only to watch Hermione poking Rabastan in the chest.

“If they were burnt trying to carry out their mistress’ orders, then what? You cannot simply be dangerous towards others.”

Rabastan looked towards the ceiling, choosing not to refute Hermione, even though Lucius agreed that fires were the fastest way to remove any more pushy servants that thought they could take advantage of her because she was young and uninitiated. There would be no more inconveniences now that they knew how dangerous the LeStranges were. 

“Come, let’s get ready, my dear.” Lucius said, saving Rabastan from Hermione’s lecture on ‘unfortunate creatures.’

“We should renew the bonding,” Hermione said, now leaving Rabastan to busy herself with finding the outfit the elves had packed “I do not doubt that we will get through this Solstice without Cetra doing something to avenge Etienne’s embarrassment at being caught in the foyer, and if Rab and Rod are protected, then bully to her.”

“And how was your date with Dracula?” Rodolphus asked, sitting on the edge of their bed (a strange thing for Lucius to admit!)

Hermione pulled out a gold dress with pink accents and walked across the vast sitting area to the bathroom to change. “A history lesson, one I wish I hadn’t had.” Lucius admitted, watching her close the door, “Abraxas watched his father died, and I suppose that became tradition.”

“Was it as you suspected?” Rodolphus asked “His wife?”

“The muggle church has some assistance from some magical being that has cursed the blood of Malfoy, or Tepes, Dracula says it is the curse of  _ monogamy _ but I am not sure.”

Hermione reappeared wearing a gown that was made from liquid gold, and a small glittering hair clip pushing her curls away from her face on one side. “Cursed?” Hermione said slipping on her heels in the doorway “What curse?”

“The curse of the Malfoy line.” Lucius got up immediately to help her put on her shoes.

“Are we still calling it that?” She asked as he got down on one knee to help her slip them on “I thought we were okay with being vampires now.”

“A different curse. Gentle, you don’t need to force your foot in.”

“I don’t even want to wear these stupid shoes.” Hermione said as it slid on her foot finally, and again with the other.

“It’s so the dress doesn’t drag.” Lucius fussed, and silently, because it made her legs miles long and Lucius liked to look at her.

He stood up and began to unbutton his shirt as he explained what Dracula had told him about his father, his forefathers, and the name Malfoy. Finally, as he re-dressed in formal attire, he came around to the war in England and Dracula’s willingness to help.

“So he will help?” Hermione asked, sitting next to Rabastan who was at the vanity near the bed, Hermione on top of the vanity, her legs swinging freely.

“I suspect his help comes at a price,” Rodolphus said warily “An heir, your imprisonment here,  _ something _ .”

Lucius bit his tongue at the heir comment.

“Family is everything.” Rabastan murmured quietly, his eyes moving to Hermione “Lucius is the last of his line.”

Hermione flushed at the implication. “I am not some broodmare for vampires. I don’t want any child of mine to be a  _ barter _ . It should be conceived because it is loved.”

“He will want something, my gift, his concern is your return to England, you may have to stay here, myself included.” Lucius coaxed gently “What will you give up to see English creatures safe?”

Hermione began to fiddle with the ends of her hair, a new habit she had picked up after piercing her bottom lip with her fangs. It made her seem young, juvenile even. He felt lecherous because her youth was attractive to him and she would remain this age forever. “I don’t know, I thought I would return with everyone to England and fight.”

“No.”  
  
“Absolutely not!”  
  
“Be reasonable!”

The three men looked at each other and Hermione hopped up off the vanity “No one here  _ owns  _ me, and can forbid me from anything.”

“Come, my dear, let’s renew the binding.” Rodolphus said, changing the subject before they were on the end of another lecture “We are to meet the English delegation _at your request_ in twenty minutes.”  
  
“Who is he?” Hermione relented “Do you know?”

“There was a vampire we knew at school, Santorini?”

“That’s where your summer home is, Lucius.” Rabastan rolled his eyes “His name is Linguini”

“Sanguini,” Rodolphus said, sitting next to Hermione on the bed, offering the arm where the mark used to be. “A vampire and friend of our old potion’s professor, Slughorn.”

With jealousy gone, he enjoyed watching as Hermione bit Rodolphus, as routine as it had become, the room went silent as she drained blood, the air filled with an intimacy that only came with Hermione and close friends. A type of love that came with the innocence of his mate, and the closeness that only being surrounded by enemies provided.

“Your will is your own.” She said, her lips red with blood, one drop, trailing down her lip and cutting a path down her neck.

Lucius got up, trying to find the diamond necklace he had packed for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this chapter was a little "lecture-y" but we are headed into the end of this book, I may make a sequel if there is enough interest, there is a lot of castlevania crossover, so I probably should just update the description to include it.
> 
> I read the original Dracula, but nothing more modern, so when I received this prompt, I watched Castlevania to get an idea of modern vampire lore. The fact that Lisa and Alucard both had platinum blonde hair led me to weave the lore in.
> 
> Small comforts before the drama of the climax at Winter Solstice.


	23. Chapter 23

Hermione was bent over a book when the man who had led them to the castle a few days ago knocked on the door. “The English Delegation has arrived, your presence is requested, Lord Lucius and wife.”

Hermione rolled her eyes at the supposed “honorable title” but Lucius offered his arm to her anyways, and the four of them walked slowly down the halls, the torchlight catching Hermione’s golden dress and making it look like it was on fire. She wore his family’s diamonds, her fingers came up around the large five carat diamond that hung low on her chest, it was one of the few times he could have gotten her to wear something that was low cut, her scar peeking out above the fabric. He attempted to match her, a slightly gold tilt as spun gold was woven into the wool of his robes.

“Lord Dracula,” The servant said ahead of them, the stairs before them into the foyer.

Dracula seemed to be waiting at the foot of the stairs for his family and his eyes caught Hermione, his lips curling into a small smile. “Welcome! Finally!”

“Slowly,” Hermione warned as she gripped onto the railing of the stairs, trying to descend with grace “The heels keep getting caught in the cracks in the stone. Stillettos, really.” She huffed.

The welcome went an agonizing pace as she made her way down the stairs to Dracula who extended his hand to her, his nails manicured into points, and he kissed her hand. “My daughter, you are exquisite.”

“Yes, you can thank Lucius for my outfit choices.” Hermione said “The English Delegation, it has arrived?”

“Yes, may I kidnap you?” Dracula asked, his hand closing around hers.

Hermione briefly looked back at Lucius who nodded slightly and she stepped towards the ancient vampire who whisked her away into the ballroom, Lucius and the LeStrange’s trailing after them.

“They asked after you, my daughter is quite famous in England.” Dracula said, pushing the door open into the ballroom, and when Dracula entered, the whole room turned, in glittering lights and hundreds of vampires dressed in their very best. “Everyone is dying to meet you.”

Hermione stilled, causing Dracula to stop and Lucius looked down from the chandeliers to see what Hermione had seen, corpses,  _ corpses _ there must be at least fifty on the tables, fountains of blood and champagne flutes, they were dressed up on plates like Christmas dinner and Hermione covered her mouth with her hand. His eyes traveled up to the massive chandeliers hanging from the ceiling that was so high it was unseen.

It was the next words that surprised him.

“Headmaster Snape.” She sounded like she had been punched, the last syllable came out hoarse “A delight.”

“Miss Granger,”

Lucius moved forward in front of Hermione and then suddenly, music started from somewhere in the vast chamber and a din of conversation drowned out Hermione’s next words.

“This is the English Delegation you requested, it is hard to get them to come, as the English channel often keeps us separate, but Sanguini sent this man with his trust, he bears his mark.”

“That’s not the only mark he bears.” Rodolphus growled.

“I came as soon as he heard.”

“Severus, I was not aware you were a great friend of vampires,” Lucius drawled and he could sense Hermione fidgeting behind him, did she want to attack or run? He was unsure, so continued “Did you tell our esteemed host of your history with our lovely Hermione?”

“The past is behind me now,” Severus waved this away like an insect “I have a greater cause.”

Sensing her unease, Dracula tapped his lips with his finger, his eyes playful. “Hermione, come, let me introduce you to some scholars you may find interesting from Berlin,” Dracula placed his hand on the small of her back and Lucius’ eyes slid over to check on his mate. 

“Rabastan, go.”

“A pleasure Severus, I hope it is our last.” Rabastan said, stalking off after Hermione and Lord Dracula.

The smell of blood was overwhelming, but the stench of  Severus _fucking_ Snape was worse. Rodolphus had already withdrawn his wand and was tapping it on his thigh inside his robes. 

“Easy, brother.” Severus put his hands up in mock surrender

“At what  _ point _ can we kill him? Rodolphus said angrily “How could you have followed us here?”

“Simple enough, it's a party after all. Not everything is about you, Rodolphus” After a tense moment Severus looked away from Rodolphus at some unfixed point behind him. “I am here to assist you.”  
  
“To assist me with _what_ , you already sent the dogs, we heard your message.” Lucius snapped, annoyed “You want my mate, you want my ancestor, you _got_ my ex-wife, what else is there to take?”

“What dogs?”

“The werewolves, Lupin and some red headed Weasley.” Lucius said.

“Lucky they are still alive, Snape.” Rodolphus said and his eyes moved to follow Hermione as she was introduced to another vampire, her eyes kept moving towards the banquet table, the people were all bound, but they moved when bitten, undulating and opening their mouths in silent screams. Rodolphus also knew Hermione was upset, he kept itching to move towards her, trying to focus on Severus instead. The thrall was a heavy magic to bear.

“Hermione spared them, do not think I would be so merciful.”

“All things lead back to Miss Granger.” Severus replied and turned to face the room “Lord Dracula seems to be taken with her, is this competition?”

“You know vampires mate for life, so what is this then? Are you here to take her back to school Headmaster?”

“No,” Severus seemed uncomfortable with the next words “I have ulterior motives, none to do with the illustrious Miss Granger.”

“Explain.”

Rodolphus moved quickly away without warning and Lucius watched Hermione quickly exit the ballroom, hand over her mouth.

“High maintenance.”

“From someone who shares a bathroom from Narcissa, your standards must be high.” Lucius said, longing to go with Hermione, but knew that he must take care of her enemies first.

“Not anymore, but there is still a tie,” Severus shifted. “Which is why I am here, there is unfinished business, Luc-”

A piercing scream rang out and the ballroom went silent, the music pattering off, and at once, every cell in his body pushed him into action, his wand out as he blasted the doors off the wall, exposing the foyer for all to view, a man dressed in a red cloak, the same color as Cetra’s dress was holding Hermione by her hair, her throat exposed, the silvery scar from Dolohov caught the candlelight, her necklace trying to escape down her dress, the chain broken.

The smell of vinegar and ash flooded his senses as he flew towards Hermione in a rage, but Rodolphus caught him “Wolves! Can’t you tell? I cannot see them but I can  _ hear _ them.”

“Let go of my hair! She withdrew her wand and turned to point it towards him, but it flew out of her hand with a clatter at the foot of another. “You will regret this, let go!”

She turned and swiped at the hood revealing an elderly man wearing a small hat and Dracula flew in shadow, a roar of anger that warped the air around them, but it was too late, it seemed to happen in the blink of an eye, a cross appeared and it was pressed against the exposed part of Hermione’s skin, smoke rising from her body as she curled into herself.

Lucius could no longer wait. _"Avada Kedavra!"_ The room lit up with green and Hermione collapsed onto the floor, scrambling desperately for her wand. Lucius went to her and he heard the snarl of wolves as he gathered her into his arms, she smelled like fury, one hand clutched over her wound, another still desperately searching for her wand.

Dracula tore into a werewolf nearby, its yelps echoed throughout the large foyer, and then all was silence, the vinegar of spilled wolf blood made his nose burn and he tried to hide Hermione in his robes.

“Lord Dracula,” A voice that was all too familiar came from somewhere behind him and Rodolphus, who was protecting him turned pale. “I have come to ask you to renegotiate our terms.”

There was a _crack_ of skull against stone as Dracula dropped the skull of a beheaded werewolf, which wolf exactly, he was not sure. “Hermione, can you stand?”  
She nodded and whined, performing the wand movements for an _accio_ but getting no results. Where had her wand gone? He cursed himself for becoming complacent, Severus was here, terror of course would follow.

Lucius looked up to see Albus Dumbledore with several other old men, dressed in matching red and black near the front doors. “I have brought some friends of mine to assist with negotiations. They call themselves the Cardinals.”

Rabastan flicked a killing curse quickly but Dumbledore deflected it off to the side, the stray curse taking out a chunk of stone as Hermione stood up, an angry red cross seared into her skin like a brand. No longer a victim, but a combatant. “My wand, Lucius.”

“ _ Accio _ ” Her wand flew from one of the Cardinals to him, and there was another howl somewhere deeper in the castle of a wolf who realized he lost his pack member.

Dumbledore was a duelist of first order, and so when the old man came for Lucius and Hermione, it was no easy task both protecting his mate and defending himself, Hermione quickly erected a shielding charm, firing off a curse blinding around her own shields that were in tatters as quickly as they were erected.

Lucius cursed as quickly as he could, but Hermione could barely stand on her own and was leaning heavily against him, one hand placed gingerly against the searing wound on her chest, her teeth gritted even as she fired off charm after charm. They were no match, and then when Dumbledore shot a curse not at them, but at Rabastan who was trying to rid them of the Cardinals, things changed.

The first time he saw Hermione cast the cruciatus, he was surprised at her target, after all, it was not Dumbledore, but one of the Cardinals that were with him. The man fell quickly, as Dumbledore was distracted and could not shield him. 

“Rabastan is mine to protect. Stand down, Headmaster.” Hermione called, leaning on Lucius, shivering with pain or adrenaline he did not know “I will kill each and every one of those men you brought with you.”

A rope shot from Dumbledore’s wand and wrapped around Hermione’s outstretched arm, breaking the curse briefly and pulling her away from Lucius. “Another wife taken, Lord Dracula.” A Cardinal said as Hermione tripped over her own feet, being dragged by the ropes across the carpet. 

In a flurry of movement Dracula attacked Dumbledore, and Hermione disappeared between the two men, and then the castle began to shake itself apart, the whole room was filled with a blindingly bright  _ lumos _ .

When it faded, Dracula was lying face down, and Hermione was straddling Albus Dumbledore’s chest, her wand to his throat.

With victory, there was a defeat.

Hermione’s voice held no  _ ethics _ as she enunciated every syllable of the killing curse, her chest heaving with air she did not need. “ _Avada Kedavra_.”

Innocence lost.

* * *

  
Hermione was crying and shaking the body of Lord Dracula, her gold dress torn as Cardinals encroached upon her and there was a hiss of a  _ Sectumsempra _ as Rodolphus defended her from The Church. It was a shame that they wore red so Lucius could not see them bleed, he withdrew his wand and cast another, getting closer to his mate who was hugging the ancient vampire, glimpses of her caught through the robes of the Cardinals that closed rank.

The next few moments happened quickly, as the carpet went up in flames as if there was some kind of explosion and he rushed towards Hermione only to be held back by Severus. “Holy fire!” Severus yelled, the fire roaring through the foyer “The church will have her if you cannot be smart, Lucius!”

Lucius whipped to his enemy, the man who would seek to destroy him. “You brought them! You will damn my mate and kill me as well! This is about Narcissa, and you would steal my Hermione to get even!”

“Dammit Lucius, not everything is about Hermione Granger, this is about your son!”

“Your son, _your_ bastard!” Lucius roared and Severus’ grip on him relaxed.

Severus eyes shuttered, before he replied, his usual fury gone. “Nonsense!”

Lucius pulled away and cast a weather charm to blow out the fires, revealing a furious Hermione and five dead men, Albus Dumbledore’s corpse at her feet.

And as soon as she caught sight of Lucius, the fury ebbed and she collapsed in on herself. “Dracula has been killed!”

No one moved, hundreds of vampires in attendance didn’t dare to murmur in front of the corpse of Lord Dracula.

“She has murdered Dracula?” Cetra asked finally, her voice clear in the silence of the hall.

Lucius gathered his wife into his arms as she sobbed into him. “My wife has avenged the death of our sire, you all are witness.”

“We did not see,” Cetra pressed “She attacked my son, and now she kills our Lord, what is to say she is not a murderess.”

“I am a murderess!” Hermione wailed into Lucius’ robes and Lucius damned Cetra, and Hermione’s ethics.

“I will murder you twice over, Cetra.” Lucius said “I am Lord of this castle now, as Dracula’s only direct descendent, and if you have any accusations for me or my wife, I  _ insist _ .” 

The castle began to shake as Dracula’s magic became unstable, the very stones emitting centuries of dust. Hermione looked up from him as the ceiling began to rain dust and pebbles on them. Severus cast a shielding charm for the room. All dissent turned to screams as the vampires struggled to flee the collapsing building.

“Renew the wards!” Rodolphus drew his magic into himself, trying to stabilize the shields over Hermione “If you don’t stabilize the wardings the whole damn castle will fall.”

Hermione stepped away and tripped over her dress into Rabastan who was crowding her with a handful of healing potions, the skin on her chest red and blackened. She was looking around wildly for something he couldn’t see. “Blood wards! They’re blood wards.” She suddenly cast a spell, her hand shaking and then falling, the room began to pulse red, tendrils of warding appearing. “Same as the manor!”

“How am I supposed to get an offering? I have no knife!”

“Are you a wizard?” Severus said behind him in disbelief, recasting the shielding charm.

Hermione grabbed his wrist and bit it, sucking blood and spitting it onto the floor, collapsing to her hands and knees before him. There was a shattering of glass in the ballroom that so loud it made his head spin, a chandelier fell, and then another.

“Make the offering Lucius!” Rabastan covered his mate with his body, the shielding charm would not hold if one of these ancient stones decided to go.

Lucius fell to his knees beside his mate. This was the end, if he fucked this up, they were well and truly dead.

“Blood of my body, freely given.” His mind was blanking as he saw Hermione place her forehead onto the carpet, her shoulders shaking. His mate. His mate was in pain! It clouded his thoughts. He had to ease her pain somehow.

She turned to him, seeming to know his problems, her face covered in dust and soot. “Protection of this land,” She said quietly, urging him to remember the lines.

“Protection of this land, in exchange for protection of this body.”

“Binding of this line,” Rodolphus continued

“Binding of this line to this earth, offer granted.  _ et lapis terrae, accipere quae olim tua. _ ”

Silence reigned, and Severus collapsed next to him, Hermione finally passing out on the carpet in ash and blood.

The ash was the remains of the last lord of the castle, but he decided that he would not tell Hermione that.  


The castle went eerily silent as the wards accepted the new offering, the magic and fallen stone deadening the sound, every so often there was the clatter of rock against rock as it settled into it's new ownership. No one dared to move, afraid that one move would take the structure down around their ears. Finally,  Lucius stood up with his wife in his arms, her hands clasped to her chest and turned to the vampires that had come for celebration, and managed to stay for the coronation. 

“Rabastan, there is another wolf in this castle, go and dispose of it.”

“Hermione,” Rabastan said, his hand coming out to grasp at the golden fabric that was torn, the duty of a thrall fighting with the duty of a protector. “I will go, the castle is not safe.”

Lucius carried Hermione up the few steps that were left in the foyer, kissing his mate on the top of her head. She whimpered in pain, her hands trying to hide the cross from him.

“I will not send you away,” Lucius said to the room of partygoers “But I cannot celebrate, the church has tried to take another, and succeeded in killing the lord of this castle.”

“Lord Lucius,” The caretaker bowed “The castle is at your command.”

The servants chorused a greeting in the rubble of the foyer. “We are honored to serve Lord Lucius.”  
  


* * *

  
Rabastan was measuring out some pain potions when Severus found them in the study of Lord Dracula, untouched by magic, protected by strong wardings should Cetra, the church, or anyone try anything else to harm Hermione.

“Lucius,” Severus asked tentatively outside the door “May I speak with you?”

Rabastan, who smelled like vinegar, still bathed in the blood of a wolf looked up at the door. Rodolphus was staring into an empty tumbler of whiskey, and Lucius got up.

“Come in, Severus," Lucius said opening the door "while I wait for Rab and Rod to decide who gets to kill you.”

Severus stepped into the study, his eyes moving toward Hermione who was unconscious on the couch, her hair pushed away from her dirty face, her chest covered in murtlap to reduce scarring. “I have made many mistakes,” He ventured “Most of them harming Miss Granger, and Draco.”

“The fuck cares about Draco?” Rodolphus asked angrily “I should kill you for even looking at her. You led the church right to her!”

“Dumbledore did not make me privy to anything after she had left with you, Lucius. When Miss Granger went rogue, he  _ also _ went rogue, and I was left with Draco, who had suddenly become reclusive, and Narcissa, who had no need for me any longer. Draco, I believed...was also affected by your nature.”

“Draco is your fucking son, Snape!” Rodolphus raged “This had nothing to do with Hermione, you should have never gotten near her!”

“Enough! Do you think I knew that when I came here LeStrange?” Severus hissed “I came to get answers about Draco’s heritage.”

“And you have.” Rabastan said and roused Hermione who whined pitifully, making all the men go quiet “He is no vampire, he is depressed.”

“Smell bad.” She muttered and looked around for Lucius who got up from his seat to kneel next to her. “Headmaster Snape’s here.”

“Don’t tax yourself.” Lucius warned and Hermione pushed away another round of pain potions from Rabastan “Severus is just leaving.”

“You sold me.” Hermione accused, but there was no bitterness “You tried to sell me to Dracula.”

“Albus believed that he was your mate, after your blood reacted badly to the silver oxide either you were a vampire or a vampire’s mate.” Severus sighed “It wasn’t supposed to be a barter, and then this great ancient terror that we met mentioned the  _ Malfoy _ line, and we just had to get you to Lucius if we wanted you to survive. Albus…decided we needed to have the upper hand.”

“He’s dead.” Hermione said, her voice strangled “Dracula’s dead, and Headmaster Dumbledore is dead as well. I killed them both.”

“Get fucked Severus,” Rodolphus said angrily, reacting to Hermione's distress. “Don’t pretend you are innocent.”

“I am bound to protect Draco, and Albus said if we didn’t understand Draco’s heritage he would die.” Severus said quickly, realizing the danger of an unhinged LeStrange “I went to Sanguini to try and understand his family’s  _ issue  _ and he sent me here to question Lucius.”

Rodolphus leveled his wand and Hermione coughed up more potion “Enough, Rodolphus. Headmaster, I do not-”

“Don’t call me Headmaster, I was not good enough to deserve the title.”

Rabastan stood up, and pointed to a table on the far side of the room “Stop bothering her, no one wants your penance, just fucking  _ brew _ .”

Severus, shocked looked over at the table and walked methodically to the cauldron, picking up ingredients and setting up the work station.  
  


* * *

  
Four Death Eaters waited anxiously for a very tired Hermione to step out of her room and into the hallway so they could attend. Severus life had at first, hinged on his ability to brew restoratives, and then on Hermione’s forgiveness, which was so freely given that Lucius had brooded for four days about it. 

A white cross was now a permanent fixture on her skin. Something Lucius sometimes caught her examining and then shamefully covering up. Albus Dumbledore did not work alone, the Church had come with him to Hermione, and therefore had a stake in the war in England.

Severus had assured him that he would take any oath to make up for what had happened with Hermione and so on the fifth day, he bound Severus to him with the promise he had seen Hermione exact from Rodolphus and himself. Their pinky’s twined and Severus looked so shocked by the dark magic that Lucius knew he had picked the right binding. It was the first time since the solstice that Hermione had laughed.

Hermione yawned as the maids opened the door and Lucius offered his arm to her, dressed completely in black, the neck of her sweater almost to her chin. So many scars, so many scars because of him. Lucius could never make the right amount of amends. Hermione leaned on him heavily, still not fully restored. The curse of the cross had broken cells deep inside of her, that no restorative magic could fix, only time, and, Severus promised, a strict potions regimen.

Today was the day of Dracula’s funeral, which was a small affair, many vampires had gone home after acknowledging Lucius as the sire. 

They walked out of the castle and down the winding path to a small graveyard where a headstone, newly erected stood next to another, and another, and another. Lucius doubted that there were many bodies, but all of his ancestors and wives were in attendance in this small clearing. A small amount of moonlight from the waning moon left, giving them light enough to see in the dark.

Hermione took some eisblume’s from Rabastan and laid it at Dracula’s headstone. She sighed “The church must be stopped, to think they have killed all that lay here. How many more vampires must die for human greed?”

Lucius agreed “It ends here, we will win England, and we will eradicate the church. As long as one exists, we cannot.”

Hermione looked up at her mate and he smiled, extending his hand to her. “You look tired.” She said.

“Worried, perhaps, about you.” He admitted in front of their friends, and Severus (not a friend, but not a foe anymore, at least to Hermione.)

The four of them walked back up to the castle, led by the light of the caretaker, Lucius no longer hurt, but the war was coming for him quickly. He now had the power of the vampires behind him, an army to call his own, immeasurable wealth, and a mate, but he still felt uneasy. The servants of the castle all gathered on the steps, in three neat lines, and two maids held something shining and gold on pillows in their hands.

“Welcome home Lord, and Lady Tepes, sire and wife of all vampires.” The caretaker said gesturing to the maids who held two crowns on dark pillows in the moonlight.

They all bowed as Lucius and Hermione ascended the steps to the castle, slowly, slowly, as Hermione was hurt.

She picked up the glittering tiara and looked at Lucius, then at the servants before setting it back down on the pillow. “My first decree as Lady Tepes, or Wife, or  _ whatever _ , is that you will call me Hermione, and Sundays...are a paid holiday.”

Lucius paled, who was going to clean the castle on Sundays?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some action and then the end of the first book! I am not sure if I should continue writing the second book or not. It seems like such a story deserving of the epic.
> 
> I am really sad about Dracula, I made him into such a likable guy, and then offed him quickly. I wanted to show that the Malfoy/Tepes line cares about family first always. There's a lot of Castlevania crossover.
> 
> Hermione coming into her own, ethics bending and warping as she protects others is peak Hermione. Ethics are what she defines them as, killing notwithstanding.
> 
> Shout out to anyone who felt like some of the actions of this chapter were familiar, as they mimicked Hermione and Lucius' first meeting (the kidnapping, the slow descent down the stairs, and then finally, to the opening of the first chapter, with Lucius ascending the stairs to the castle now as a victor, his own lord, not a victim).
> 
> I really had a lot of fun writing for a gift exchange, I had never participated in one before, and I wanted to expand upon the Lucius Malfoy that I wrote in a previous short story called Samhain. Suffering under the weight of his family, hiding secrets as the world tears at him, etc. Everyone really grew up in this story!
> 
> I will post an epilogue this week some time, I never like to leave without copious amounts of domesticity and fluff.


End file.
